


Of Mind Games and Madness

by mobilisinmobili



Series: Double-0-Everything and Nothing at All [5]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alex Rider is a Mess, Attempted Murder, BAMF Alex Rider, Best Friends, Blackmail, Blood and Gore, Emotional Manipulation, Friendship, Hostage Situations, Illegal Activities, Mind Control, Mind Games, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Secret Intelligence Service | MI6, Special Air Service, Terrorism, Torture, Undercover Missions, Yassen Gregorovich Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 67,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobilisinmobili/pseuds/mobilisinmobili
Summary: Alex thinks the head of MI6 is a power-hungry pathological liar bent on further ruining is life. MI6 thinks otherwise. Yassen just wants to get the fuck out of the bizarre situation he's found himself in.
Relationships: Alan Blunt & Ian Rider, Alex Rider & Wolf, Ben "Fox" Daniels & Alex Rider, K-Unit & Alex Rider, Tom Harris & Alex Rider, Tulip Jones & Alex Rider, Yassen Gregorovich & Alex Rider
Series: Double-0-Everything and Nothing at All [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1754563
Comments: 36
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is going to be the last of ~5 stories in the "Double-0-Everything and Nothing at all". Highly advise you to read those stories (I'll be continuing to add on) for certain references! Not 100% necessary though.
> 
> Alex is 19 going on 20 in this work! So +5 years from canon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main Inspo Songs:  
> \- Nico and the Niners: 21 Pilots  
> \- Female Robbery: The Neighborhood  
> \- Fytch: Gravity  
> \- i just came here for the drugs: 1-800-LOVE-U

The office looked smaller than he remembered, subconsciously taking in every little detail of the minimally redecorated office of the head of SO.

He didn't really like it. It was too clean. Too...sterile. Much too much like the room he'd spent most of his four-month-long disappearance.

 _They_ had painted the room white too. Steely white walls with stainless steel chairs. The only big difference between the two was that Matthews had gone for tile floors instead of concrete.

That and he didn't have a tub of ice-cold water stashed to the side, ready to drown Alex if need be…

And the _smell_ … It wasn't great, but after his last mission, he was just thankful that it didn't smell like bleach.

Everything about it set him on edge. Too close to looking like the room he had been dragged to for those "learning experiences".

_He was positive he'd never ever be able to purge the image from his mind. The blood and gore. How the man was very much alive and feeling when they started the dissection._

_He could still hear the man._

_The screaming._

_The begging._

_The utter horror at the fact that the man could see that his skin had been peeled open and pinned to each side for better access. Alex straight up blocked out the man's large intestine trailing a bloody puddle where it sat bunched together on the cold floor._

_He tried to look away, but the hired muscles held a death grip on his head, holding him steady to watch what might happen to himself eventually once they got bored…_

_But that was something to worry about later..._

_He was untied from the chair before someone was pushing a knife into his shaking hands. Shaking from fear, or shaking from the exhaustion he wasn't completely sure, but he knew he couldn't fight back._

_He had a pretty good idea what they were trying to make him do, and at this point, he couldn't bring himself to resist. He'd put the poor guy out of his misery and then maybe, just maybe they'd kill him too…_

_He stumbled a few steps forward, drawn in by the hypnotically glinting table, as he tried his best to keep upright instead of collapsing in on himself onto the cold concrete floor. His vision was getting blurry as a new bout of nausea crashed down on him both from fatigue and from the horrid sight in front of him..._

Alex shook his head, trying to get rid of that particular memory. He wasn't ready to remember all of that just yet…

And for now, he had other things to worry about, like the bemused head and vice head of SO glaring daggers across the threshold of the metal and glass desk.

They were angry.

He knew. But he'd be lying if he said that he actually gave a fuck about their feelings.

No. They didn't deserve it.

Today marked day nine of his return after a successful retrieval by the two SAS units.

Nine days home after four months of living under the thumb of a new branch of SCORPIA, and he was drained. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But there he was, sitting on the same uncomfortable chair trying not to make eye contact with the dull grey eyes for the fourth time that week.

He was getting to a tipping point and the repetitive questions weren't going anywhere new…

Matthews tapped none too gently on the glass desktop to get the spy to readjust his attention.

"Let's go through it one more time. From the beginning."

Alex was positive his eyes twitched.

He'd repeated the brief over a dozen times. Gone as far as to tell Jones that she should just obtain a recording device.

The cut and run at the hospital had been meant as a means to slip out from SO's wing for a precious couple of days to recuperate in peace. But Matthews was adamant, and so the meeting dragged on with zero progress actually being made.

"With all due respect-" He ground out, head beginning to really pound as the hold of the pain medication he'd taken that morning let go of the last few tendrils of numbness it had given him.

Needless to say, the blonde was beyond done with the bullshit for today.

He'd been sitting on that chair since eight that morning and if the clock behind Matthews' desk was correct, it was lunchtime but it didn't look like they were going to take a break anytime soon.

Not that it was much of a surprise.

They'd made it to the four-hour mark, what was another hour or two in the grand scheme of things?

But Alex wasn't in the right mood to be understanding. He was tired and sore, not to mention the gnawing feeling of hunger that seemed to follow each high dose of whatever it was that the doctors had given him to manage his pain levels.

All in all, he could say he wasn't surprised at his own sudden outburst...

Matthews narrowed his eyes, posture changing, silently warning the blonde to watch himself.

Alex knew.

He was _painfully_ aware of just how thin the ice he was skating on was. It had been that way ever since the cold-blooded sociopath somehow managed to skip over Jones to secure the position of SO head of operations.

That had been a little over two years ago, and the animosity just kept growing, quiet like a disease. And while he had hated Blunt, Matthews was different. Matthews was worse.

He knew how Blunt worked. The previous head of SO was an eternal bastard in Alex's book. But he kept (mostly) to the rules.

Blunt's modus operandi was simply to choose the most logical solution and to then follow the steps until the problem was solved. He may have pulled a few ass hole esque plans off gambling with Alex's life, but in the end Alex could understand, albeit with a moderately high level of irritation. But the actions were warranted in the end.

But Matthews… he was an enigma. A complete and utter power-driven psychopath who didn't care much for the people under his thumb, including Alex.

 _Especially_ Alex.

From day one of his swearing-in to the meeting of all the higher-level agents, it seemed that he was out to get the younger man. _He wouldn't hesitate to put me in a body bag if he had a reason,_ Alex had joked darkly with Daniels after a particularly heartless order mid-mission that Alex couldn't bring himself to do.

The mission itself had ended in a success, not that Matthews seemed to care.

He had personally sent a unit, thankfully not K, to snatch him mid journey home under the guise of capturing a rogue intelligence agent. That, in turn, escalated into a four day stay in HQ s holding cells for the spy who, very unintentionally, put two of the soldiers in the hospital. He was apprehended eventually, but Matthews's anger only grew from there.

The man had stooped as low as to use that particular event to take him off the official roster and tie him in with their CIs, something Jones had, surprisingly, fought tooth and nail against until Matthews reinstated Alex as an actual full-time higher-level agent.

His pay was put back where it was and the _damned_ ankle bracelet was taken off and gotten rid of along with the conspicuous caravan of black-armored cars that were ordered to circle his flat through various times of the day.

But with the leniency came strict unyielding discipline in other aspects of his life.

Between the near back to back missions, Matthews had apparently stumbled upon a small piece of information that Alex didn't even know he was apparently hiding.

And then he understood.

And he really _really_ considered asking Jones to just put him back with the CIs since CIs weren't anywhere near being qualified or in ownership of a high enough level to participate in the recruitment process as an instructor.

He _hated_ it.

Hated the attention and the extra level of communication and "mingling" it took.

It was tedious, and more than a little irritating. He knew most of the trainees would be dropped within the first few days. He knew that they wouldn't really pay attention to what he was teaching on account of his age.

And he _definitely_ knew there would be questions upon questions to be asked around the time instinctive shooting came up.

They'd know what it was and what type of person would use the technique. And once they managed to connect a few theories, they'd keep their distance, treating him like he was some sort of mercenary or a cold-blooded killer.

A quasi fuck-all situation that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, would happen.

Matthews finally let him leave around the time four o'clock rolled around, and without a second glance back he stumbled out of the room, wincing as his bruised areas began to strain from sitting in one area for so long.

But he had a feeling that today was not the end for his debriefing, which sent a wave of dizziness through him.

 _Not here. Not fucking_ _now!_

His breath began to shorten as the hold on his lungs tightened. Looking down he saw his hand begin to shake.

He looked around hastily before locating a small alcove near where he stood only a few meters away from the workroom. Alex did his best, ignoring the painful throbbing of his leg as he rushed to the spot.

He couldn't let them see he thought as he slid down to a crouch, back against the firm wall as his heart beat a painful staccato.

He couldn't breathe.

Images began flooding into his mind. Little clips of the hell he'd lived in came back, not piece by piece, but as a whole, connecting themselves together so he couldn't tell where anything began or ended.

And while his mind was waging war against the memories he tried so hard to forget, somewhere in the back of the war was an uncomfortably nagging thought.

It was cold. _Too_ cold.

And out of nowhere, he was back in his cell, air toxic with the stench of death permeating the cold dingy room.

 _It's not real._ He couldn't stop shaking.

 _It can't be real. I'm not here right now._ He turned his head ever so slowly, looking to his side of the cell trying to look for any clues as to how this couldn't be.

But it was.

He was positive of it. And as his brain soaked up the twisted event, his eyes wandered further around the room, settling on the pièce de résistance.

They never did end up taking the maggot filled corpse out of the room...


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken 20 minutes before some poor trainee happened to walk by the alcove, looking more than a little frazzled at the sudden appearance of their orientation instructor.

"Stop." Alex pointed at the trainee.

"Don't move. Don't talk. Just-just stay there." his voice wavered slightly, eyes scrunching closed as he pressed the fingers of his free hand against his eyes sending sparks of color behind his lids.

He took one last deep breath, wincing slightly against the sharp stabbing pain at his temples. And with an exceedingly large amount of self-control, he opened his eyes, clearing his face of whatever emotion he had left.

He righted himself, leaning slightly against the wall. And without a second glance at the confused trainee, he stalked his way over to the elevators and got on to the nearest open one, shutting the doors without giving anyone a chance to get on.

He had no time to waste. He needed to get out of here.

Out of this trigger filled building and back into the cool darkness of his flat…

He was lucky that day. The trip down to the parking garage was straight with no one calling it to stop.

Just what he had hoped for, silence and solitude to clear his mind of whatever the _hell_ that little episode in the alcove was.

The elevator dinged open into the dark private parking garage. MI6's newest addition for the higher-level agents mixed with some special automobiles from Smithers's lab.

The car itself wasn't his own choice. It had been Jones who had decided to disallow Alex to continue taking public transportation. Especially after the nearly fatal bomb that had been planted on the bus Alex just happened to be on a year or two ago, it was all a blur now. And while the bomb had never detonated, Jones and Matthews ruled it a hazard and cut him off of any sort of nongovernment transportation.

He had argued at first, understandably so. While he could drive and had driven before, he had never gotten around to getting his driving license. That and the fact that he felt the MI6 registered vehicle to be a tad bit too flashy. It was conspicuous and no matter how safe and armored Smithers had assured Alex it was, he didn't feel safe.

Not after everything that had happened to him. He just couldn't draw up enough faith in a piece of metal with a few fancy modes.

He had enemies dead set on killing him and he was positive that an armored sports car wouldn't do shit against a particularly dedicated vendetta.

But, with the current situation etched into his brain, he knew it wouldn't do to get on either head's bad side. He didn't need any extra ammo for Matthews to use against him.

So he did what he needed to do and unlocked his car, got in and buckled the seat belts.

He did have to admit however, it wasn't without its perks. The dash lit up, glowing bright blue in the darkened car as the fingerprint scanner on the wheel verified the driver's ID. The engine started up, nearly silent as the doors automatically locked themselves.

And without a second glance, he sped out of the garage into the dying afternoon sunlight.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nearing 11 PM when Alex finally wrote up and signed the last documents of the mountainous stack he'd been handed when he was released from St. Dominic's three days ago.

 _Well_ … Maybe not _released_ , it was more like _personally removed..._ And by personally he meant himself. Removed just didn't have the right connotations he needed.

But Jones and Matthews probably knew.

Probably because they were the ones who checked him in in the first place. The alarmed calls for backup and a search team probably gave them enough information.

And to Alex's mild shock, it seemed that neither of them cared too much.

There were no calls. No one had come to try and drag him back.

Even during the first meeting, a few days after he'd broken out, Matthews didn't even acknowledge Alex's actions, choosing instead to pass the spy a rather tall stack of documents. Alex had known the moment he saw them, and for one quick beat, he sat frozen in his seat trying to control himself so he wouldn't follow the orders of his brain to just shove the stack off the table.

No. Matthews would have been furious.

And a furious Matthews was the last person Alex would want to aggravate. Especially with the older's marked disdain for the blonde.

He kept his mouth shut after that

It had been a bumpy ride from the beginning and Alex couldn't help but feel relieved.

He stood, stretching his sore muscles.

He'd turn the files in tomorrow and maybe just maybe Jones would take pity on him and give him a free day.

While the bruises and scratches began to lighten and the muscles continued to repair themselves, he was _exhausted_.

It had been nearly four days since he'd gotten any decent sleep, too busy sprinting to the bathroom in the middle of the night to puke up what little food he had eaten.

Sleep had been elusive even when he was held hostage, but that hadn't out of free will. His dark circles just kept getting darker and darker, giving his secret fatigue away.

Somewhere along the line, the nightmares had turned to reality with every small sound registering ten times louder as his paranoia and anxiety began to mix, feeding each other while tearing him apart.

It was a war zone in his head, and for now, he had no idea who was winning. Just a jumble of thoughts and emotions fighting to the death.

But of course, Matthews and Jones had no clue about this either, and he wasn't about to tell them.

On the contrary.

The first few days in St. Doms he had carefully constructed a mental box in which he stuffed his deepest darkest secrets and thoughts to clear space for what would be an extremely detailed, false persona to take hold.

He didn't need anyone to know just how out of his mind he was.

So when the phone began to ring, he couldn't help the drop in his gut as he realized he'd have to put on the whole persona once more, which was far more tiring than he imagined it would be.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Rider. This is Vauxhall calling. There will be a car arriving in ten minutes."

He didn't get to say another word before the call ended, leaving him brooding in an aura of fatigue and mild irritation.

Just when he had started to relax…

Joggers and hoodie be damned, Mathews would just have to deal with his less than professional attire at this hour.

He stuffed the papers inside a backpack before slinging it on and getting the lights.

* * *

"No."

"You seem to be laboring under the impression that you have any actual say in this," Matthews replied coldly.

"It hasn't even been two weeks!"

"But you're fine enough to have left the hospital, Rider. That was a personal choice, was it not?"

The silence of the room was chilling.

"You've been placed on leave for the remainder of the month until we can sort this Russia fiasco out." Matthews tapped the stack of documents on his desk.

"That means until then you can either get checked back into the hospital for a health leave or you can agree to the new position.

"As an instructor on terrorism? At SAS base camp of all places?"

"Yes. Agent Rider." He sounded particularly bemused.

"The SAS requested someone with a high enough clearance and you just happened to be the only agent on leave."

Alex leaned back in his chair arms crossed defensively as he mulled over his less than desirable choices.

"And if I choose neither..?" Matthews never really appreciated Alex's sarcasm, and he certainly did not appreciate it now.

"I'm sure our CI'S would love to have a new handler."

Alex narrowed his eyes.

That was a low blow...

"Fine." He bit out.

"Good choice. Someone will take you back home to pack. I expect you to be ready by 01:00."

Alex merely glared, anger rising slowly through his blood.

"May I be dismissed?" he nearly spat.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Matthews answered, not even bothering to look up from his papers, shooing him away.

Alex stood stiffly before moving silently towards the door.

"Oh, and Agent Rider?" he stopped Alex in his tracks.

"I suggest you reevaluate your place in the greater scheme of things. You never know what might happen with a smart mouth like that." The thinly veiled threat sent a chill down the blond's spine, keeping him hesitating a moment longer before walking out of the room altogether, shutting the door quietly behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

“At this point, I’m just disappointed in myself for thinking he wouldn’t go any lower.” 

Alex stepped aside, letting the group into the flat.

“Mhm. Well, you know what they say. Absolute power and all that.” 

Ben answered shortly, obviously just as displeased with the turn of events.

“It’s an SAS base camp. What the actual fuck does he think he’s doing..?!”

“Believe me. The sergeant almost had an aneurism when the suits showed up. Wolf and I can vouch.”

Wolf nodded, grimacing at the memory. 

“But it’s a direct order from the head of SO, feelings be damned, we can’t do jack shit about it now.” he added gruffly. 

“They’ve had him tailed for a good week or so. Mobilis protocol or something like that. It was in his file.” Ben passed the manila envelope over to Alex who gingerly accepted. 

Things weren’t looking good if _Tom_ of all people had a file with a protocol.

“But now they just want to up and move him to the middle of fuck-all in an SAS camp…”

“You know how Mathews is.”

The two spies shared a somber look.

“So he’s my contingency chip.” 

“More or less.”

“Fuck.”

Alex sighed, as he scrubbed his face in tired frustration.

“Tom. Mate. I’m really sorry about all of this. You’re getting dragged into this mess cause of me.”

“It’s not your fault, Alex. Your boss’s just a piece of shit human is all. Don’t worry bout it. I’m sure it won’t be _that_ bad.”

Alex stiffened, looking warily over to where Ben steadily ignored his gaze.

“Did they-uh- did they tell you where exactly it was that you’re going…?”

“Nope.” he popped the ‘p’ for good measure, looking _far_ more haphazardly ruffled in his oversized hoodie and pajama pants tucked into a pair of worn black combat boots, than he had a few moments ago when Alex had answered the door, not so different from Alex’s own outfit sans the dark jeans.

The sleep mussed hair didn’t help the whole image, and suddenly Alex felt the free-fall weight of just how serious this entire situation was and just how _not_ ready he was.

If anything happened this time around, he wouldn’t be alone, and that was a _big_ fucking problem. 

“But I’m gonna guess...military.” Tom added, turning his attention to Wolf who stared back bemusedly in return. 

“So they haven’t told you anything. Nothing at all?”

Tom shook his head. 

“I mean, I know him-” he nodded to Ben. 

“And going by the weird name, I’m gonna assume he’s SAS-” Wolf quirked a brow. 

“Right? Wolf-” he pointed to the man. 

“I know Wolf called Ben ‘Fox’ at least once on the way over. So your old team then?” 

Alex nodded. 

“Yeah. They just showed up at my door around 12 ish. Almost had a heart attack, I did. I was drifting off and I just hear this banging on the door so I went to check and here I am.” he shrugged, 

“Jones asked to help him pack since you’d be getting ready too.” Ben added. 

“Are we taking one car or…?”

“Wolf and I are going to tail . Harris can ride with you.” 

“What time are we supposed to be there by?”

“Sergeant wants us there by five.”

Alex nodded, moving to grab his duffle from beside the coat closet. 

“Good. I need to stop at a station and grab some things.” 

“We’ll stop at a halfway point and regroup then.” 

“We’re good then?” Wolf asked the finalities. 

Alex grunted an affirmative. 

“Alright. Let’s get moving.” 

_______

“I just realized this but, aren’t you guys supposed to be wearing your uniforms? I thought we were going to the camp.

“They’re just gonna have to deal with it.” Alex replied flatly, tossing his duffle into the trunk of his car, motioning for Tom to do the same before making his way to the driver’s seat. 

Tom shut the trunk before making his way to the passenger’s seat.

Fox leaned into the driver’s window. 

“Drive safe” Alex nodded as the two fastened their seatbelts. 

“And for god sakes Alex, keep the reckless driving to a minimum. We don’t need another trainee fiasco.” 

Alex rolled his eyes before starting the engine. 

“That was definitely not my fault.” Fox narrowed his eyes. 

“Okay, maybe it was a little my fault, but even you have to admit it was over exaggerated.” Fox smirked. 

“I heard Matthews say he was gonna take your license away if anything happens.” It was meant lightly, but even Tom could tell that Fox had hit a chord. 

Alex gave a small grimace before straightening out his features.

“I got it.” he replied, putting the car into drive, effectively ending the conversation.

____

They'd been making good time, cruising at nearly illegal speeds through the sparsely populated back roads. 

The small convenience store attached to the service building. It was lined with isles of snacks and other possibly necessary day to day items and medication.The smell of cheap, burnt coffee hung heavy in the air.

Alex wasted no time in pulling out a bottle of Coke from the back, along with two bottles of water at Ben’s insistence.

“You think they'll check my bag?” 

“Why? You've brought something you shouldn't have?” Wolf joked lightly.

“Maybe?” 

There was a quick beat of silence.

“I mean, you're an instructor. Do whatever you want.” 

Alex hesitated a moment longer before grabbing two bottles of cheap vodka and a small bottle of rum. Ben cocked an eyebrow as he and Tom put down the two cups of coffee in their hands. 

“Will that be all for you all today?” 

“Yes ” Alex pulled out his wallet, shooing Ben away from the counter. “I owe Snake some bottles after that fiasco with the new recruit seminar.”

Ben laughed. “Have you actually gotten through a seminar without any sort of chaos?” 

“Honestly, no.” Alex accepted the change, pocketing it before discarding the crumpled up receipt in the bin .”I'm shit at seminars but I keep getting put on the roster for some reason.”

“The most recent new trainee seminar wasn't so bad.”

Ben quirked a brow as they waited for the checkout guy to bag their things.

“The one for the bank? That's because you hid for half the seminar.”

“I didn't _hide”_ Alex answered with mock indignation. “I just happened to disappear to the room next door for a few hours.”

Ben snorted. 

“That's called hiding.”

“It was a _test._ ” Alex explained defensively. “They all failed. Not even one of them voiced their suspicion when their instructor disappeared for three hour.”

“So that's why Snake suddenly just up and vanished.”

“Saved the day, he did. Took initiative and finished the seminar.” Alex nodded solemnly, grabbing the bag, mumbling a thank you.

“What was the seminar even about?” 

“Shooting.”

“He's a medic,” Ben objected.

“He's SAS. They probably thought he was a sniper.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “They can't be that bad…”

Alex paused reflectively while Ben pulled the lid off his coffee, moving toward the condiments to add some more cream.

“Someone from HR got these anonymous clickers included in the seminar as some sort of ‘learning aid’.”

“I heard about that. What a waste of funds.” 

“Exactly. But it confirmed my thoughts about the fact that this new batch of recruits is utter shit.”

“You say that every seminar.”

“This time I mean it. They’re the worst group I’ve met so far,” Alex insisted. 

“Is that why more than half of them got binned?”

“They better have. I put up that trick question: _Can active agents accept monetary compensation from other organizations for their use of firearms?_ And sixty percent answered yes.”

Ben and Wolf winced. 

Alex smirked in response.“Twenty percent said no, and the remaining twenty answered number 3.”

“Number 3?” 

“They clicked a button that wasn't an option.”

“So you got sixty percent of your group starting their potential mercenary and or assassin jobs.” Ben teased. 

“I guess. I mean, I'd still be able to teach them.”

It was the sort of dark humor the two had gotten accustomed to within the recent years. Alex had grown increasingly comfortable with joking about his past and current employment. A blackmailed temporary assassin turned official spy. 

His life was unique, to say the least. Once Alex had accepted his own brand of dark humor he’d only gotten darker. After Alex had officially been initiated to MI6 and re-introduced to the team, Ben and the rest of K unit claimed it was one of his key traits. 

Alex Rider, the unflappable, witty spy. Deadly but hilarious.

Tom had claimed that the blonde reminded him of Deadpool for no other reason than the near suicidally blasé attitude about his deadly line of work. 

“Alright, well, we’re about half an hour away so keep your eyes open. You can speed a little. I’ll feel better once we reach camp. Fox snapped his top back on. 

“The sergeant said it would be Eagle and Snake with S unit on standby. So if anything changes I’ll let you know.

“You don’t think he’d make me start today, do you…?”

____

That had been a good two hours prior to the absolute fiasco that unfolded before Tom’s eyes where he sat in the passenger’s seat.

 _“_ Shit _._ Shit. Shit. _Shit._ _”_ It was all Tom could think of as Alex accelerated once more, taking the curve with far more force than necessary as he held on for dear life. 

He had been peacefully, albeit freezingly, dozing off in the passenger’s seat as Alex blasted the air conditioner to keep himself from dozing as well. It had been peaceful up to that point as Alex kept relatively close to the speed limit and the general laws of driving, doing his best to avoid potholes and traffic. 

But some time during when Tom had drifted off, they had gained a tail. 

He was awoken abruptly when Alex had taken the first curb while speeding, resulting in Tom being nearly flung off the window he had been leaning against only to be reunited with a painful collision. 

“What the-” he glanced over at his supremely bemused friend. 

“We’ve got a tail.” Alex replied flatly, taking a jagged right before speeding up. 

He chanced a glance in the rearview mirror only to find the car still on him, albeit not too close by. 

Tom checked the GPS to find that they were only a few minutes from their location, making the sudden appearance of the car all the more strange. 

“Who are they?” 

Alex shrugged as he flew into another turn, effectively zig zagging away from their intended course.

“I’ve radioed in. Apparently Jones is in a meeting. No one knows….” Tom could hear the tension below the calm facade. 

“Could it be people from the camp?” 

Alex shook his head. “They’d be in humvees. And they have no reason to be out on civilian roads.”

He sped up and pulled a tight u-turn, chancing a glance in the rear view mirror once more. 

“Maybe-” Tom was interrupted by the sudden crackling of the radio in the dashboard. 

“Alex?” 

Alex pressed a button on the steering wheel before answering. 

“Any info?” 

“You got to get to the camp.”

Alex frowned, glancing back again.

“I am _not_ leading a possible group of hostiles into an SAS camp, Fox. Try again.” 

There was a crackle on the other side before Fox replied. 

“I’ve radioed camp HQ, they’ve got a team mobilized and on their way out. You guys will just have to rendezvous in the front of the camp”.

There was a beat of silence before Alex sped up, taking a turn with scary precision. 

“Alright, but I will be open firing upon suspicion.” His tone was flat, definitely not completely on board with the plan.

“Roger that. You’ve got permission to shoot on sight. But leave the coms open.” 

“Alright.” Alex replied before pressing a few more buttons. 

He glanced over at Tom who looked understandably shaken. 

“There’s a good chance this situation is gonna go south.” he stated solemnly. 

“So I’m gonna need you to pull it together Tom.” 

Tom took a deep breath before nodding. 

“Good.” Alex nodded back.

Alex for once just hoped he was wrong. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

With the promise of help coming, Alex had gone into what tom could only assume was his “full spy mode” clearing any and all signs of emotion clean off his face as he flipped a switch near the glove compartment. Within a matter of moments, the semi-transparent windows frosted over in darkness effectively dimming the interior while lighting up various buttons and switches that had been invisible beforehand. 

“Alex, I know you’re a spy and everything mate, but even you’ve got to admit this is so  _ cliche _ ..” Tom chuckled, trying his best to hide the nervousness that was buzzing through his veins. 

Alex, for all he was worth, seemed perfectly unperturbed. 

“I mean, if I’m gonna go for the James Bond thing, might as well go the whole nine yards.” he grinned glancing over at Tom.

“Oh, also, I need you to reach back a bit and pull the lever under the back seats,” he added conversationally. 

Tom unbelted himself before climbing haphazardly towards the back, knocking up against the window as Alex swerved suddenly. 

“Would it kill you to give someone a heads up?!” Tom hissed

Alex opted not to answer, swerving once more.

“This is me driving calmly for your benefit, Tom. You should really be thanking me,” he answered as he straightened out, speeding up once more. 

There was an inaudible mumble as the mechanisms under the chair sprang up.

“Now, if you look under the big machine gun, you should see a metal case.” his voice remained even as he took yet another screeching turn, sending Tom flying to the other window. 

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you…” Tom hissed with faux venom. 

“Not one bit” Alex replied neutrally, betrayed by the small grin on his face as he glanced a look at his rearview mirror. 

“The combination is 24120” 

He paused to give Tom time to shakingly turn the lock code. 

“You’ve got machine guns out on display but you put your little handgun in a box?” Tom inquired quizzically, taking the sleek gun out of the case, giving it a curious once over.

“That’s not just any gun Tom. It’s special.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me there’s gun favoritism in the spy world,” he replied sarcastically. 

Alex reached a hand back for the gun.

“You know what I mean,” he said with a huff. 

“This one’s fingerprint sensitive. Made specifically for me. I barely even have to pull the trigger.”

Tom’s eyes widened as he handed the gun over warily. 

“But isn’t that the whole point of a gun? You pull the trigger and it shoots?”

“Mhm,” Alex replied, placing both hands back on the wheel while holding his gun in one hand. 

“But this one is more for instinctive shooters. I don’t aim, I just shoot.” 

“Now that just sounds dangerous…” 

Alex shrugged. 

“It is if you don’t know how to instinctively shoot.” 

“And you just happened to know how?” 

Alex chuckled half-heartedly. 

“I had some… special training,” he replied while glancing once more into the rearview mirror. 

“Anyways, we’re almost here, so I’m gonna need you to get back to the front and buckle up”. He stated, cutting off any more potential questions. 

Tom did as he was told, buckling up and returning to gripping the sides of his seat as Alex returned back into his serious state. 

His heart picked up the pace and he held on for dear life as Alex upped the speed once more in a last-ditch effort to evade the tail, to no avail. 

A frown blossomed as Alex entered, what seemed to Tom, a few random numbers and letters before pushing the coms button.

“This is Agent Rider requesting urgent backup. ETA 7 minutes and counting to the front gate.”

There was a crackle on the other line before a brusque voice replied. 

“Affirmative, agent Rider. Back up has been dispatched to the front gate. Snipers are in place.” 

Alex nodded in approval as they passed a sign for Brecon Beacons campgrounds. 

“Tom.” he started brusquely.

“Hmmm?” 

“Once we get closer to the gate, things are gonna get a bit bumpy.” Tom could practically feel the steel in his voice. 

He didn’t respond. 

“I’m gonna need you to duck when I say so, alright?”

Tom nodded vigorously, trying his best to keep his breathing even. 

They drove for a few more moments as tension hung heavy in the cold car, and then Alex spotted the humvee. He flashed his lights and within moments the truck came to life, u-turning in the narrow road to tail the mystery car. Alex, on the other hand, continued to speed as he was, seemingly oblivious to the huge looming metal gate that was approaching with scary speed. 

Tom’s eyes widened before he shut them tight, tensing himself for the inevitable impact. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was hearing the wind or just the blood rushing to his head, but he was certain that there was going to be a lot of blood very very soon.

But it never came, much to his boggled mind. Within a fraction of a second of him opened his eyes, he had his torso pushed down as Alex swerved into a u-turn with one hand as his other rested atop Tom’s back with his gun in hand, shooting three shots out of the suddenly opened window. 

He heard the bangs before he could even process what had happened. 

“Tom. Are you alright?” Alex asked mere moments after putting the brakes on, letting off his friend as he slowly stretched back up. 

Tom was too busy trying to control the rush to his head. 

“You’re mental.” Tom got out between deep breaths. 

Alex just nodded as he sat for a moment and watched his friend try to control his breathing once more. 

“Stay here.” 

Tom nodded, leaning back into his seat with another deep breath. 

Alex took no time in making his way towards the black car that had crashed itself into the gate, gun drawn as he moved swiftly towards the scene. 

He didn’t get too far before hearing the telltale sound of a gun being cocked. Didn’t even have time to move fully out of the way before a white-hot bullet grazed his right bicep, causing him to momentarily recoil before sending him crouch running towards the trunk of the car passed multiple bullets.

There was a momentary pause as the mystery passenger reloaded, pierced by a staccato of gunfire from the humvee, so loud that he almost missed the driver’s window being rolled down. It was within the blink of an eye that he saw a face in the side mirror. So quick before he saw a Smithers level stun grenade being hurled towards the area he was inhabiting. 

Cursing he flew out of the way, into the dangerous open space of the passenger side’s aim. 

It was  _ definitely  _ not looking good…

“STOP!” he motioned frantically at the unit in the Humvee as he ran as fast as he could back to his car,  _ definitely  _ aggravating his leg injury all the more. 

He hobbled towards the humvee, crouching low as to minimize potential hittable area.

While he wasn’t completely sure of what was going on at the moment, he did have a pretty good guess, and the face in the mirror did nothing but support his hypothesis(which if really did end up being true, would be an absolute nightmare to explain to HQ and the Sergeant….)

He got to the driver’s side of the humvee to be met with frowns and machine guns.

“What the absolute  _ fuck  _ is going on, cub?!” Eagle hissed as he reloaded. 

“Wait. WAIT! Don’t shoot, Eagle!” he cried, scrabbling desperately for the gun. 

Eagle shot Alex an incredulous look. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Cub, they’ve been shooting at you…” Snake responded deadpanned. 

“I know. I know,” he responded hurriedly.

“But they’re MI6.” 

The two men just stared. 

“I know them. They’re new agents.” Alex continued, pulling out his phone. 

“We didn’t have any intel that they would be sending in a tail..” Snake replied flatly. 

“I didn’t know either…” Alex said as he brought the ringing phone up to his ear. 

“What is this, Fox?” he hissed. 

“I just got intel that Matthews sent a tail, just in case. You’ve gotta stop shooting at them, Alex. Wolf is moving towards the humvee now. I’ve got them closed from the back. ” 

He rolled his eyes, much to the wariness of the others. 

“I thought so. They’re from the new batch of recruits,” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

This situation was headed way south. He could just feel it…

“They’ve been notified of your situation, so just make sure they know you’re on the same page.”

Alex grimaced. “You’re positive about this?” 

“Mhmm. Just don’t make any sudden movements. They’re probably still jumpy at this point.” 

“Alright.” he hung up, deliberating for a moment before stepping into the vantage point of the black car before placing his gun slowly on the ground, hands held in surrender as he stood waiting. 

It took a moment before the two agents made their way out of the car, guns in position. While the driver had his eyes on Alex, the passenger made his way swiftly to the side of Alex’s car, guns drawn as he neared where Tom sat, unseeable beyond the darkened glass. 

“Oi, I’m over here. Don’t you dare touch the car.” he felt a chill go down his spine. 

The other agent ignored the order, as he wrenched the passenger’s side open, latching none too gently onto Tom’s shirt. 

Alex fumed. 

The agent proceeded to manhandle the dark-haired teen out of the car before placing his gun on Tom’s pale temple. 

“What is this?” Alex hissed, glaring between the two agents. 

“This is what happens when you don’t follow the rules, Agent Rider.” it was said with just enough of a sneer that Alex just knew. 

He  _ knew. _

“I followed all the rules, Beirne. Haven’t broken a single one Matthews set.” 

The agent holding Tom deliberated before answering.

“Wrong. You attacked a fellow agent. Two to be precise.” 

Alex sucked in an angry breath. 

“That’s because I wasn’t given any intel that I would have a goddamned tail.” he took an unconscious step towards the driver.

“Nuh-uh. You stay where you are.” The passenger cocked his gun. 

Alex froze. 

“It would be a shame if we had to log a collateral damage report for this little incident, Rider.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes. 

“What do you want?” he bit out slowly, venom covering each word. 

“Call off the snipers.” 

Alex contemplated a moment before nodding towards Tom.

“Let him go.” 

“You think this is a game?”

Alex shook his head. 

“I’ll do what you want, just give him over. This doesn’t have to be a hostage situation,” he said stiffly. 

The driver shared a look with the passenger before nodding. He pushed Tom roughly in the direction of the SAS humvee. He thankfully was able to pull himself together enough to not hesitate to dash towards the truck where Wolf pulled him in before giving a thumbs up when he received an affirmative, returning the two parties to their stalemate. 

The silence and tension were enough to suffocate, even in the freezing weather. 

But it was broken abruptly as Alex’s phone went off, setting everything into dizzying motion. 

He hadn’t even reached for the phone. His fingers had flexed momentarily in all honesty, but nowhere near enough to show possible movement. 

And that was when the driver acted. 

He didn’t even hesitate to pull the trigger that was pointed in Alex’s direction.

Alex felt his breath being ripped out as something hot tore through his thigh, knocking him off his feet onto the ground. The second shot hit him squarely on the left side of his chest, scarily close to his old bullet wound. A little different, pain-wise than the first hit 

It only took seconds before he felt his vision tunneling, as he heard yelling and multiple gunshots ring out nearby. 

He didn’t feel rough hands grab him up into the humvee as they sped away into the camp through the recently opened gates. And he most definitely didn’t feel his heart began to stutter. 

But he did feel one thing for certain; waking up was going to be hell...


	6. Chapter 6

“I just wanted to say, with _ all due respec _ t-” Fox groaned from behind the two way glass outside. He could just imagine the absolute shit show that was about to unfold in the cramped SAS holding cell. 

“-that I think it’s kind of odd how often I get shot at by my own boss.” Alex went on. The sass was practically dripping. 

There was a beat of silence before Matthews replied, tone clipped and unmistakably irritated. 

“I did not shoot you, Agent Rider. You shot at my agents.” 

Alex quirked a brow. 

“Those agents didn’t give me any reason to think they weren’t the enemy”.

“What enemy are you talking about?”

Tom could practically feel the eye roll that Alex, very maturely, skipped on. 

“You tell me. You had all the intel on my whereabouts for the past four months.”

That definitely hit a nerve, as Mathews deemed not to respond, instead choosing to glare at the blonde sitting in front of him. 

Even Tom had to admit that the situation looked rather odd, with Matthews, the head of MI6, evil eyeing the far  _ too casual _ looking teen. In fact, he found it absolutely bizarre that Alex could be so calm in such a situation; maybe go a bit far as to say it was downright creepy the amount of control he had, all things considered. 

“And while we’re on the subject of intel, wouldn’t you say it’s just a little strange that  _ no one  _ was informed of the new group _?  _ You couldn’t even tell 

_ Daniels?”  _ there was a hiss to the last word as Alex narrowed his eyes, expression betraying the calm posture he had taken, sitting back against the uncomfortable metal chair, arms somehow crossing across his chest regardless of the bright cuffs on each wrist connecting him to the heavy metal table in between the two. 

Matthews shrugged noncommittally. 

“They felt you were a hazard so they operated with the strictest level of the protocol in their given situation. You could hardly blame them.” There was no remorse in his tone. Nothing but frigid disregard. 

“And it’s not at all uncanny how it had to be those two who were sent to tail me?” Alex matched his cold tone. 

“Not one bit.” 

There was a moment of tense glaring before Mathews looked away, swiveling back to motion to the two-way mirror. 

It took another moment before a black-suited agent opened the door, holding a black box under his arm. He smirked at Alex who flicked him off in turn. 

“Now, I doubt I have to remind you why you are here, Rider. You’ve made an agreement, and you will keep your word.” 

Alex eyed the box warily. 

Mathews smiled before opening it. 

“Not to worry, it’s the newest invention from Mr. Smithers. “ 

Alex’s eyes snapped up, fury renewed in his glare.

“Well technically, it’s still a prototype, but I’ve been informed that it would work to the extent we need it to.” 

“He didn’t tell me he was making something for me the last time I saw him,” Alex said in a leveled voice, just barely keeping out the malice. 

“That’s because it was top secret. And we didn’t really know who would be using it at that time.” Matthews responded a ghost of a smirk flashed across his face.

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that his invention helped out a dear friend.” the sarcasm was not missed. 

Alex felt his eye twitch.

Mathews took yet another small black box out of the original box before sliding it over to Alex.

“Go on then. It’s yours after all.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes before reaching warily for the box. 

He opened it slowly, keeping it a good distance away from his face before glancing up towards Matthews in confusion. 

“I still have the watch from Russia.” he began carefully. 

Matthews nodded. 

“Yes, we found that at your house too.” Alex bristled at the obvious message of intrusion.

“But this one is… more up to date.” Matthews continued, gesturing to the watch.

He gave the table a sharp knock after a moment as motioning to Alex to get on with it. 

“No one is leaving until you put it on,” he commanded, patience wearing thin. 

Alex took one more scrutinizing glance towards Matthews before unlocking the watch. 

“Upside down.” Matthews prompted as Alex tossed the watch face onto his wrist.

“Pardon?” 

‘The watch face-” Matthews nodded towards the chrome face, “-it goes on the bottom of your wrist, not the top.” 

Alex glanced quizzically down at the watch before flipping his arm and resettling it on the bottom as told. 

“This way it’ll be able to keep up with your pulse,” Matthews stated. 

Fox could see the wariness in the tense way Alex sat, definitely on edge. Something was not right.

Alex clicked the ends into place, ‘locking’ the watch, as he had been instructed to do before by Smithers. 

He fiddled with the watch a moment more before turning his attention back to Matthews. 

“If that’s all-” 

“There is... One more thing...”

Matthews reached over to where the smaller box sat unused next to the bright cuffs that sat atop the metal surface of the table. 

He pulled out the top, revealing a hidden bottom holding a small remote. 

Alex tensed, eyes glued to the remote. 

“Now, I’ve heard from a little birdy name Blunt that you seem to have a knack for running away.”

Alex recoiled ever so slightly at the sudden name drop. 

“And now that you’re officially an agent, we can’t have you just dropping off the face of the earth.” 

‘Why would I-”

“Why would you run? That’s the same question we asked ourselves during that whole Russia SNAFU”. Matthews cut in. 

Alex lowered his eyes, focusing on the ominously heavy watch, fingers brushing against the lock as he fought the urge to tear it off. 

“Now that that’s settled, I do apologize Rider.” 

Alex whipped his eyes up, staring warily into the cold grey eyes of the head of MI6. 

This was not right. Matthews never apologized. 

Matthews met Alex’s dark browns before grimacing ever so slightly. 

_ Shit. _

And before Alex could say another word, sharp bark of pain was ripped out of his lungs as his wrist caught flame. 

Or at least he thought it had. 

Looking manically over to his wrist he found a momentary dissonance between his thoughts and the pain. 

There was… nothing wrong…? 

“I recommend keeping your hands off, I’ve been told it’ll further aggravate your wrist,” Matthews stated matter of factly, watching Alex struggle. 

“What did you  _ do?!”  _ Alex hissed, eyes watering as he attempted to cradle his arm protectively.

Matthews swung the small remote between his fingers as he continued to watch the after-effects.

“As I said, we can’t have you pulling another disappearing act on us, Alexander-” there was a sudden knocking at the door. 

He turned back towards the mirror to point aggressively. 

“Daniels, you and that boy better stay put or so help me god, this will not be the end.” he barked. 

“Now-” he said, turning back to face a bewildered Alex. “that watch is a new prototype we’ve been working on for our CIs.” 

“I am  _ not _ a criminal,” Alex growled, still cradling his wrist 

“Of course not, but it does the job,” he said with a shrug. 

“That pain you felt came from the needle within the backing. It’s the newest nanotech. That needle is roughly the size of a thinner nail” 

Alex’s eyes twitched once more as he brought his wrist closer to his chest. 

“Compact until it’s activated. Don’t try to take the watch off. The needle’s barbed, and you’ll just end up cutting through veins. It’s connected from the back of the watch face to the locking mechanism so it’ll be able to sense if you’re trying to get it off. We’ll be able to monitor your pulse and your whereabouts. It works as a semi arrest cuff meaning that if you happen to wander out of bounds for whatever reason” he shrugged noncommittedly “you’ll be stopped.” 

Alex quirked a brow. 

“You’ll have exactly five minutes to get back in range before the toxin is released. “

“Toxin…” 

Matthews nodded. 

“In summary, if you are found out of bounds or if you become a danger to those around you, you’ll have a little heart attack and you  _ will _ die.”

Alex took it all in with a small scowl, not letting his burning arm go. 

Matthews leaned in, in an almost conspiring fashion before motioning for Alex to do the same. 

The blonde took a deep breath before leaning in as well. 

“We have an agreement Agent Rider, and I can tell you this right now, you won’t have Mrs. Jones’s protection forever, so I advise you to think before you act because if you pull any shit here, I  _ will not _ hesitate to make sure your cold corpse ends up in HQ's morgue. Am I clear?” 

Alex stared blankly before nodding, leaning back once more, wary eyes fixed on Matthew who nodded before standing. 

“And Rider” 

Alex tilted his head.

“Do make sure you keep your friend out of trouble as well. It would be a damn shame to have any civilian casualties. “ he tossed the threat neutrally before turning and making his way out of the cell, letting the door click softly shut behind him leaving a seething spy in his wake.

_ Shit.  _

Fox was  _ definitely  _ not gonna be happy. 

  



	7. Chapter 7

"I know."

"He can't just _do_ that!" Fox collapsed onto the empty chair next to the bed Alex was perched on.

"What was he even th-"

"Ben." Alex snapped, finally taking his eyes off of the slowly reddening gauze he held in his other hand, holding tight around his newfound watch.

"I _know,_ alright?" he sucked in another deep breath as a wave of pain jumped up his arm.

"But he's the head prick of MI6. I can't just-" Alex tossed the bloodied gauze aside, motioning for the older spy to hand him a new pack, muttering for him to douse it in alcohol.

"-lodge a complaint with HR… he's not Blunt, and he's definitely nothing like Jones." he hissed, clamping his eyes shut against the sting of the alcohol as it worked its way under the watch and into the piercing.

"he'd probably have me arrested again if I pulled anything again."

Fox frowned, obviously unhappy at the entire situation.

Alex was right, of course.

There wasn't much that could be done about what had happened, especially with whatever it was that Matthews had over Alex and his time in Russia.

"But a CI cuff? That's just low…" Alex muttered, pulling the damp and bloody gauze away, reaching for a new roll.

"You really _should_ let one of the medics do that for you...:"

Alex didn't reply, winding the length of gauze tightly around the watch.

"I mean, you are in the infirmary after all…" Ben added as he handed Alex one of the butterfly clasps from the box.

"Cant." Alex replied flatly, moving his arm away to check his work.

"Can't or won't?" Ben retorted with a quirked brow, arms crossing of their own accord.

" _Can't_." Alex replied, readjusting the sleeve of his grey hoodie over his bandaged wrist.

"Why?"

" _Because_ , in case you've forgotten, I have a job to do, and it starts in two and a half hours and I haven't even gotten the basic lesson plan done. I'm supposed to submit them to the Sergeant before class, and you know-"

he glared at Ben, ever so close to an eye roll,

"-the hell they would unleash about 'sanitation' and 'proper treatment'" he rolled his eyes this time.

"And I wouldn't make it in time and for all I know, Matthews would probably arrest me on the spot for failure to comply. And I _will not_ be getting arrested over a goddamn _lesson plan_ Ben." he sniped, narrowing his eyes irritably as the older spy burst into laughter.

"C-can you imagine the rumors at the next new recruits seminar? Arrested, for, what, a lesson plan?" Ben laughed, wiping at his eyes.

"Alex Rider, top spy, arrested for unfinished _homework "_ He howled, slapping Alex on the back heartily.

"that'll definitely send a message. No one's safe from the _real_ threat _!"_

Alex watched on in bemusement, glancing over at the clock.

"If you're just about finished, I wasn't joking about the time. Now I've only got a little over two hours..."

He moved across the room to throw the pile of bloodied bandages and wipes away, putting the disinfectant back in its place.

"I dunno if you've got to come to the seminar since it's only day one, so if I don't see you there, I'll catch you at dinner." Alex tossed casually with a vague wave.

Ben shrugged before grabbing the last of things and tidying up the space.

He would _definitely_ not be missing out on this little gem of an opportunity, it was only fair after all, to give the blonde a second chance at first impressions.

But he had to admit, he really hoped that it would at least be a sliver similar to the total chaos that was *last year's MI6 recruitment day.

He chuckled at the memory.

Oh yes, he would definitely be present for that.

* * *

"You're late."

Cold blue eyes lasered in on Tom who nearly dropped the box of files he'd been holding in surprise.

"He's not MI6," Alex answered just barely hiding the surprised flinch, flicking back to the laptop before him on the podium.

"That's not my concern." Tom hurried over setting the box on the small table next to the other opened box, moving unconsciously closer to Alex.

"I've been informed that there were issues on your return."

Tom didn't miss the small pause this time.

"I've taught you better than that." The man's tone was flat but Tom could hear the small fleck of disappointment mixed with what sounded strangely like a threat…

The man strode closer until he was mere centimeters away.

"And you know my thoughts on collateral damage, Alexander." he gave Tom a cold once over.

Alex finched, fingers paused mid-movement on above the keyboard.

"How did you get to Matthews?"

"That's none of your concern."

Alex for what he was worth moved just in time, saving his fingers from being smashed as the screen was very suddenly forced shut.

"And I expect you to look at me when I am talking to you, _Alexander._ "

Tom saw the words hit a nerve with the spy as he refocused his gaze to meet the cold blue eyes head-on.

"Matthews told me you may need to refresh some of your memories. I see that he was correct in assuming so. It's a pity. Four months of work gone to waste."

That definitely drew a reaction from the younger, as his eyes widened a fraction, body tensing just a bit more."

The man ran a cold calculating glance over the spy before continuing.

"For your remainder in this camp, you will be reporting to me. I will be in charge of your time outside of your teaching duties."

Alex nodded silently.

"And although it may be difficult for you to do so-" no one missed the flat sarcasm "I hope that you will be able to pull the knowledge you have gained during your time in Russia out of the abyss of your memories."

The _or else_ was left out but clearly understood, by Tom at least who swallowed.

Alex nodded again, staring resolutely at some point just beyond the man's shoulder.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Yassen nodded brusquely.

"Matthews also informed me of your negligence to personal health." there was a definite tone of disapproval now as the man took out a small orange bottle from his pocket.

"What have I told you before?"

"Negligence will lead to injury and death," Alex replied in an emotionless tone.

"So why is it you seem so adamant about neglecting the orders of your doctors?"

Alex didn't reply, tensing his jaw minutely.

"I asked you a question, Rider."

The threat hung heavy in the air.

"I don't know… Sir."

There was a chilling pause between the two. Tom could practically _feel_ the uncharacteristic stress rolling off his friend in waves as he stood waiting with bated breath for the man's reaction.

"It seems to me-" Yassen started,"-that we have a long way to return." the words were soft but held a chilling weightiness.

The man didn't wait for Alex to respond, placing the pill bottle he'd magicked out of nowhere atop the podium.

"I expect you to come get the night dose."

"Yes, sir."

"Tonight's lecture has been delayed an hour due to a recon exercise taking longer than expected. I want to see today's finished lesson plan before the lecture begins."

"Yes, sir."

"This should prove helpful in making the presentations and schematics of the lesson plans. I trust you know enough to leave certain things classified."

He placed a USB Tom swore he hadn't been holding before, on top of the bottle.

"I am not sure of what you have been told, Alexander, but it seems that the situation in Russia hasn't been completely dealt with."

Alex stiffened, eyes widening as he shot a lifelong glance towards the man.

"So, I advise you to keep your guard up. They can be anywhere at this point. It would not do well to make it any easier for them." and with that, he stalked silently out into the pouring rain.

Tom let Alex stand in tense silence for a solid minute or two before bringing him back to earth.

"Creepy bloke. Who was that, if you don't mind me asking…?"

Alex sighed, tension leaving his body all at once as he slumped against the podium, scrubbing anxiously down his face suddenly _exhausted_.

"That" he answered, pinching the bridge of his nose "is the actual devil incarnate."

And with that he pinched harder, willing the oncoming headache away.


	8. Chapter 8

“You know” Tom started as he continued to spin in lazy circles as his feet brushed lightly on the wheels of the spinny chair. 

“it probably says somewhere on that bottle not to do that….” he came to a slow halt to face the worn out looking blonde. 

If he were being brutally honest, he would say that Alex truly looked like shit, with his chalky pallor and the ever so prominent dark circles. It looked like he had been dragged under a bus. Or tranquilized and then stabbed through the wrist. Same difference…. 

His frown deepened as Alex shrugged before shaking out the pills. 

“Honestly Tom, it's gonna take a lot more than some painkillers and cola to kill me…” he replied casually before washing them back with a swig of cola. 

He grimaced at the sudden carbonation before recapping the orange bottle. 

Tom continued to glare disapprovingly at Alex who turned his focus back on the glowing screen in front of him. 

“The creepy guy said you should take care of yourself.” he pressed, resuming his lazy spinning, albeit with more bemusement than before. 

“You don't even know him, Tom.” Alex quipped flatly, fingers racing along the keyboard.

“But he probably has _some sort_ of power since you do. What, is he a spy too? Some sort of military intelligence? _Or maybe_ -” Tom’s voice hushed in a mock conspiratorial manner “maybe he’s some sort of assassin or terrorist or something... He did look like he really wanted to kill you. What did ya do to piss him off that badly?” 

Tom swore he saw a little twitch from Alex's right eye before he schooled his face back to neutral. There was a beat of silence before Alex started. 

“I'm not saying this lightly, Tom. You need to stay away from him.” Alex said, turning his attention briefly away from his laptop to meet Tom's gaze.

“He's unpredictable and _extremely_ dangerous.” 

Tom hummed thoughtfully before smirking.

“What?” Alex asked flatly. Tom's sudden change in demeanor set all sorts of alarms off in his head. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Tom waved it off airily. 

“You should focus on your work, Alex. You've got like less than an hour left.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes in suspicion before turning his attention back to the glowing screen. 

He’d really have to focus. The margins for error were getting smaller and smaller and with his track record, _something_ was bound to go wrong.

And he’d _definitely_ have to request a private chat with Jones. All these surprises were really starting to put him off… 

Yassen skimmed through the powerpoint presentation on the laptop Alex set before him. 

He scrolled through, humming in affirmation every so often, eyes flicking towards the blonde standing at attention in front of his desk. 

___

_he was definitely not pleased with the assignment he had been given, but even he had to admit that he was surprised at the outcome of the incident. But the most surprising of all was the offer of a deal._

_He definitely wasn’t on good terms with MI6 and a handful of other intelligence agencies after him, so to be given such leeway was...suspicious to say the least._

_But it would be for the best for the time being, especially with the fact that there wasn’t a full recovery just yet._

_He’d stay put and bide his time until the time was right. And then he’d disappear._

_But for now he’d have to stick to the orders of Matthews which included Rider._

_He couldn't make excuses for the boy any longer. A few months shy of 19. Yassen wouldn't be able to do much more in terms of protection for the boy as he made his status as an agent official._

_It wasn't that he had any attachment to the blonde. No, it was more so the fact that voluntarily or not, Rider had been under his tutelage and he would be damned if his student failed to survive. While he wasn't perfect himself, he did take pride in his skills and the reputation he had gained. He wasn't going to let anything or anyone mar it. Especially an MI6 agent. Particularly this double crossing ex SCORPIA agent._

_So, in protecting his student he would protect his reputation, and possibly gain some leverage at that._

_But with the sheer time spent on the SNAFU, the spy’s physical health wasn't great , and Yassen had a feeling that his mental situation wasn't much better either._

_Two factors that he knew they'd have to work on if the blonde wanted to at the very least stand a chance, especially with the red alert on Rider still active with next to no leads on where the problem groups scattered off to. None of his contacts had turned up conclusive, and even he had to admit it was starting to work it's way under his skin. They were helpless with no leads as to where the group was. For all he knew, the group could have just died in Russia. There had been far too much chaos in the past four months to have been able to keep track of them, but he was sure that with the number of men he had lost, they had lost pretty much the same. It would be difficult for any group to have come back from that much destruction. Not even SCORPIA had a clue, or what remained of SCORPIA at least. But then again…_

______

“The last group is unnecessary.” he said, handing the laptop back. 

“I thought so too...”

Yassen quirked a brow. 

“Matthews said it should be in there. Something about keeping them up to date.” 

The beginnings of a scowl flashed across the spy’s face. 

“I don't have enough information on them to teach the soldiers much of anything about them… Matthews said to just make sure they know of the group's existence.” 

Alex fought the urge to move as cold blue eyes continued to stare, taking apart his words, examining him. It was something he knew he would never really get used to. 

The assassin had an uncanny way of making people squirm…

He nodded after a few moments before moving to grab a sizable file from the box of files on his desk. 

“This is V unit's debriefing on the mission in Russia. Matthews says you haven't submitted a brief yet. He wants yours in by Wednesday at the latest.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“I am sure I don't need to tell you that the file is cl-” 

“Isn't that kinda cheating?” Alex took a deep breath, willing himself to stay at attention and _not_ choke the raven haired menace behind him. 

Tom had wandered over to the nearest empty chair and plopped himself down, continuing his lazy spinning. 

He'd been quiet and Alex had assumed that that meant he knew the gravity of the situation in that he would not cut off aforementioned _highly dangerous assassin_ mid sentence, but he's been wrong about a lot of things before. Particularly when it had involved Tom. 

Alex glanced back slowly, eyes narrowed, silently sending the message to “ _stop talking GODDAMN it!”_

A message that Tom had obviously not received as he continued on. 

“I mean, why not just use that one as the official one? Seems like a waste of time to ask for a new one…” 

Yassen flicked his gaze to Tom who slowly stopped spinning and inched ever so slightly back. 

“Sorry. I-just forget I said anything…”

“Not a bad question, Harris.” he cocked his head to the side, refocusing the icy stare back to Alex.

“Why _not_ just do so, _agent_ Rider?” 

Alex flinched inwardly at the emphasis. He and Yassen both knew very well that it hadn't been MI6 that had taught him about the intricacies of debriefing and writing up post mission briefs. He hadn't even been an agent at that time, nevermind on the right side of things. 

Malagosto had taught him an eye opening amount of things from poisons to weapons skills, but even _they_ had classes on debriefs. And with the fact that most of their endeavors had been on the illegal side and done within factions of teams and individuals working together, the standard for briefs was high and failure to meet the standard was near that of the failure of a mission all together. 

“It's mostly for accountability purposes…”

“And if there is a problem with the briefs?”

“You've got to open up an independent investigation to see what went wrong.” he spoke tonelessly, staring straight ahead. 

“But it is a little different for your friend here.” Yassen stated leaning back in his chair. But he didn't take his eyes off the blonde in front of him. 

Alex stiffened as the implications of those words sunk in. 

Tom swore he saw a flicker of real anger in Russia's eyes.

“Why do you think?”

“Because his boss doesn't like him?” Tom answered sarcastically. He frowned. Something was definitely wrong. Very _very_ wrong. 

He could feel it

Yassen continued to stare, fingers tapping on the wood top of his desk. 

It was a good two minutes before the silence was broken.

“Because I can’t write a proper report according to protocol.”

“Why?”

Alex hesitated a moment obviously bothered by whatever the answer was going by the tension forming across his shoulders.

“Because I can’t remember what happened.” Alex muttered. eyes fixed on a spot just above Yassen’s head. 

Tom froze, rooted to the spot as the man stood, moving slowly from behind the desk he’d been sitting at.

“There is nothing I hate more than careless mistakes, Alexander. You of all people should know that.”

“Yes sir.” 

“So tell me why you’ve been allowing yourself to make so many.”

He circled slowly, hands clasped behind his back, file firm in one hand

“I don't know what you're talking about.” the confidence was an honest surprise. Tom's eyes widened marginally as Alex danced around the metaphorical snake. But even Tom had to admit that the bravado was worrisome. 

Yassen continued to circle slowly, not hesitating in his fluid movement. 

“You put yourself in harm's way to get a few hours of peace.” 

Tom winced. 

That was true... 

“Your decision to not take the prescribed medication leading to the breakdown in Matthew's office as noted the during the first round of briefing.” 

Alex just stood, back ram-rod straight not wavering. 

“Your inability to put available medical resources to use.” a slender hand whipped out to grab Alex's injured wrist causing him to inadvertently recoil. Yassen didn’t let go, twisting Alex’s arm none too gently to look over the bandage job, eyes narrowing as the white bandage slowly began to seep red around the watchface. 

He shot the blonde a look of ice cold disappointment. 

“But of everything else, keeping a memory problem hidden is needlessly foolish.” he hissed, twisting his fingers inward to dig into the watch eliciting a hiss of pain. 

He twisted until the spy was on his knees, red faced and shining with cold sweat, fighting to keep quiet. 

Tom's heart picked up pace as he glanced furiously around to find an empty room. 

_When had they all left?!_

He turned back to the disturbing view at hand, trying to shake off the sudden cement that was keeping him glued to the spot. 

And why wasn't he fighting? Tom knew Alex could hold his own against most people, or at the very least get away. But there was no fight in the spy’s eyes. just… submission? _That_ definitely wasn't very Alex like…

“I'm glad to see that some things weren't forgotten.” Yassen remarked. He bent down until they were face to face, hands tightening. 

Tom didn't miss the wince. 

“I will be very clear with you, Alexander. We have no intel. No leads. Nothing. In the middle of a military division being watched on a _very_ close leash by the head of British intelligence. Do you understand?”

The severity of Alex's warning began to really sink in. 

“The margin for error is _very_ small. And I will _not_ have a repeat of what happened in Russia because of _carelessness_ . _Do you understand?”_ he hissed.

“Y-yes sir.” there was a hitch in his voice. 

Yassen let go of the bloodied wrist, handing him the file, motioning him to be excused. 

Alex didn't say another word before moving towards the exit, eyes glossy as he gave his full attention to moving. 

Tom hurried after him, glancing back to see the Russian sitting against the table arms crossed, staring back. 

He quickly turned his attention towards Alex's retreating back as he followed. 

____

Alex tightened his hold on the sides of the podium, peering listlessly at his glowing screen trying his best not to vomit, or pass out. Or both.

He undoubtedly knew that in doing either of those things he'd be punished, if not by Matthews then by Yassen whom he was positive would be worse. 

The pleasant buzz created by the painkillers was gone leaving behind a painful wrist and what he was pretty sure was a thin sleeve that was soaking up all the blood…. He'd have to avoid lifting his arm. Or moving. Or talking too fast 

Just focus on generally staying conscious. 

It would be two hours and then he'd have an hour before he was expected on the assault course. He was sure he could fit in an infirmary visit in that time… but for now, he focused on keeping his eyes on the tuff of raven hair seated at the very back. 

His makeshift anchor for consciousness. 

He was convinced that if he could manage to keep his eyes on one point and not move from where he was practically leaning on the podium, he would be able to last the two hours. 

_Damn it all_

He took a deep breath. 

_“_ Alright. Quiet down. Quiet down. My name is Agent Rider. I'll be your instructor on terrorism for the time being.” 

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

It didn't take long before Tom could feel himself drifting, as hard as he was trying to will himself to stay awake. He had been situated in the back of the room towards the door thankfully up against a wall, the very one he felt himself sliding down slowly but surely. 

They had made it past the introductions and general summary of what the lecture course would entail and what was to be expected, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how awfully similar it was to syllabus day back at Brooklands. 

Except for the serious tone that Alex set out and the equally serious and focused expressions of the high key intimidating soldiers.

And then Alex had dove right into what Tom guessed was the basics, or the general information section. 

He was sure of it by the way he brushed passed all of the bolded terms on the first few slides. And that was about when he felt his eyelids getting heavier. 

The sounds of papers rustling and pens moving mixed with the even tone of Alex’s speaking lulled him towards a worryingly calm haze which, in his defense, he did try to blow away through readjusting his seat. 

It was another fifteen minutes before he felt himself drowse again, head lolling and jerking up while snippets of the lecture registered in his mind. 

Something about Triads and arms sales…. 

It was another roughly thirty five minutes before he jolted awake from the way he nearly dropped completely sideways. He blinked owlishly towards Alex who had directed his laser pointer to a map on the slide they were on. 

“Malagosto is where they kept their training facility” he circled around a small speck of land surrounded by a vast amount of ocean. 

“This is where most of their field agents reside, along with the instructors.” Alex brought up the next slide. 

“And if you look closely” he circled another area on the grainy photo, a bird’s eye view of a relatively small island “You can see the holding area towards the north side of the island. Because of the way the currents work and the general layout of the land, it’s nearly impossible to leave the island from that side. And as a twisted added bonus, it only echoes there, and the echoes just happen to carry to the rest of the island” he grimaced as he brought up the next slide. 

Tom nearly vomited. 

“It’s a bonus because it just so happens that the interrogation rooms are also located on the northern part of the island next to the cells” he tilted his head, pausing to look a moment at the photo before speaking again. 

“SCORPIA interrogations typically tend to be a little more _hands on_ than other groups” Tom could feel the disgust radiating from the soldiers. Hell, even he had to admit that the photo was a lot more than _just_ gruesome. But he couldn't bring himself to look away from what he suspected was the large intestine that was dangling out of the gaping hole in the abdomen of a very alive man. It didn’t help that he noticed the steel pincers that were pinning the flaps of skin back onto the fatty section of the man’s side. 

And the blood. 

The blood on the man’s face and his neck and obviously around the hole, but also the floor. Pools of crimson had formed on the darkened concrete, glimmering as steady drips of more blood rained down.

“This particular method was favored by a man named Doctor Three-” he brought up the next slide. 

“-SCORPIA’s resident expert on all things related to torture” Tom didn’t miss the way his hands contorting into fists before relaxing. 

“He was… Interesting to say the least. Absolutely deranged, but a genius nonetheless in his own right and field. There aren’t many people who survived through his sessions, but that was what he hoped to accomplish anyway. To see how far he could push people before they snapped. Physically, mentally, emotionally… All three?”

He shrugged as he reached for his can of cola before continuing.

“They aren’t completely disbanded, but they’re getting there” he took a sip. 

“Now, with that being said, I should warn you all, if you happen to find yourselves up against senior SCORPIA agents, don’t initiate contact. You get yourself out of there as fast as you can. They aren’t ones to go easy on anyone. And if you are caught alive, you _will_ be taken prisoner, unless you die on the way. In either case, you will die” he surveyed the soldiers before him. 

“They’re a deadly group with absolutely no morals or hesitations. It goes without saying that they train their operatives to be the best” Tom could feel the steel in Alex tone. 

He didn't exactly know every single thing, but he was knowledgeable about them. Whenever Alex went away to come back a little more worse for wear than other missions. He'd have a slightly darker set of bags under his eyes in addition to being more jumpy than what was normal. And then there would be the nightmares...

_While Alex would never outright say where he had gone on missions, there would be some that would trigger more nightmares than normal, at least for the first couple of days. And then he'd wake up to find Alex watching cable reruns or nature documentaries downstairs at four in the morning, dark circles ringing around exhausted looking eyes. He'd mutter a non committal hello before wandering to the kitchen to find a cooling pot of coffee and yet another, of numerous, orange bottle sitting on the counter with the top unscrewed. He'd grab himself a cup of chocolate milk before situation himself on the other end of the sofa, focusing studiously at the screen of whatever it was that was on that day._

_Neither would make a sound, but he knew it helped Alex relax. He could see it every time he would glance over every couple of minutes. He'd see the visible tension lines in Alex's shoulders gradually disappear. And if it were a particularly good day with Alex actually having decided to take the medication he was prescribed, he'd find the blond drifting off before seven, just early enough for him to drape a throw blanket on him before getting ready for school_. 

That was what he knew about them. SCORPIA, the one group that could disrupt Tom's sleeping pattern so inadvertently… _fucking passive aggressive shits…_ he had thought. 

But hearing it now, he understood. It all clicked for him, the nightmares and pain and general all out stress and paranoia. Any other being would have probably gone mad by now. 

But there Alex was, pretty decently sane, albeit looking too pale and little sick for comfort. Tom picked up on the way that he held his arms so that he wouldn't have to drop the bloodied one. And the fact that, while he was pacing back and forth on the stage his steps still looked just a little strange. A little wobbly. 

It was pretty spectacular really, to think that there was no lasting damage from Scorpia that Alex couldn't hide. He continued on that vague train of thought before once again being startled back to reality by a chance glance to his right out of his peripheral vision. He nearly had a heart attack then and there…

Seated to his right was a slim figure dressed in various shades of grey to black with a shock of blonde hair and ice blue eyes. 

Yassen nodded to the boy as he noticed Tom's sudden discovery.

“He has not forgotten much” the Russian whispered just loud enough for Tom to hear. 

Tom just stared straight ahead, trying to will his heart back to its normal beat. 

“When did you get here?” He half hissed, still keeping his eyes forward. 

“Malagosto” Yassen replied shortly. 

Tom blanched. He'd been awake for that…. 

He whipped his gaze to the side, eyeing the assassin with wary eyes. 

“How do you _do_ that?! I'm right next to the door!” he ended sharper than he intended, not that he cared. 

Yassen brought a finger up to his lips. 

“You're distracting your friend” he replied, in mild amusement. 

Tom's eyes widened as he whipped his attention back to the front just in time to see the faint look of surprise melt back into neutral as Alex focused his attention back to his laptop as he brought up the next slide. 

“The key to getting out alive in any situation involving SCORPIA would be to be able to recognize a SCORPIA agent” he motioned to the screen where photos of faces were lined up.

“Higher level agents are marked.” He started off as he continued his pacing. 

“It's equally for identification as it is ceremonial.” He turned back to the screen. “These are a few higher level agents who have been taken into custody or are now deceased.” He clicked once more and the pictures of faces changed to those of body parts, a stray leg there, a few biceps, and a couple of forearms. “Each agent is given a higher level agent nee mentor when they pass the general test. They are partnered to train together and eventually follow on missions. After a certain number of passed missions, they're deemed able to go solo. Once they pass three solo missions they are inducted.” His eyes briefly settled in Yassen’s direction before flicking back to the screen. “The mentors get to choose the location of the mark. That way there will always be someone to be able to confirm a corpse.” Tom was positive he wasn't the only one feeling tendrils of ice down his spine at that. It was just so….creepy.. And the fact that Alex was so nonchalant didn't help at all. Alex simply brought up the next slide. 

“As of current counts, there are less than ninety active higher level agents.” there were a few murmurs in the crowd. 

“With that being said, their skills are extremely valuable. Assassinations, hired mercenaries. You'll find them in many places where special forces are needed, so keep your eyes open. He nodded as he glanced at the clock, outright ignoring the watch on his wrist. 

“Any last questions before we finish for today?” 

There was a moment of movement and murmurs before a few hands went up. 

Alex nodded to a man sitting towards the back. 

“How reliable is this information? Doesn't it take a few months before it becomes available after redactions?”

“It's the latest Intel meaning it's information gathered within this month.” He nodded at another sitting in the second row. 

The man shifted a bit in his chair before speaking, obviously thinking his sentence through. 

“I mean no offence-” Tom could practically feel the sigh that Alex smartly kept in. 

“-but, what credentials do you have to be speaking on this topic? SO or not, you seem pretty young-” 

“Any questions regarding credentials can be asked directly to the Sergeant. Everything else is classified” he didn't even miss a beat. It sounded a bit _too_ rehearsed to Tom's ears…

He perked up as another was picked.

“Have there been any agents who have gone AWOL?” Alex waited for the man to elaborate. 

“What happens when you run away? I mean, _can_ you run away?” 

It was then that Tom noticed the small smile that graced the face of the assassin beside him, and he knew that it had been a _very_ good question. 

“Membership to SCORPIA is life long. They never forgive and they never forget” he began, unconsciously holding his arms just a fraction closer to his chest. 

“Any agents found fleeing will be caught and deemed traitor. And then it'll go one of two ways depending on how heinous your crimes against SCORPIA are considered. If you're lucky, they'll just shoot you and be done with it. If you're not, you'll be the next supply of training dummies for interrogation tactics, as you saw in the previous slides” there was audible hisses. 

“But, it won't be just anyone ripping you apart. It'll be your mentor. Sort of as a last ‘fuck you’ before you die a miserable death.” He tapered off. 

Tom's eyes widened marginally as the message sunk in. 

His eyes widened a fraction larger as he noticed something new once more out of the corner of his eye. 

Not as prominent or dark as the ones on the screen, but definitely like them in terms of shape and size, he saw the upper half, head and striking pincer, of what he now knew to be a scorpion just barely jutting out past the collar of the Russian's dark coat. 

He tried to, as inconspicuous as possible, turn his head to get a better glimpse at the assassin's nape.

“There are consequences, Mr. Harris, for those who pry.” 

Tom felt his blood freeze as tendrils of ice ran down his spine at the solemn yet quiet words of Gregorovich. 

“But if you are interested, I'm sure Alexi could provide information. He speaks from experience after all” the Russian tilted his head slightly to observe Tom momentarily before his ice blue eyes flickered back to the front where Alex stood, immersed in conversation from another question. The sudden change in tone left Tom with a mental whiplash. Gone was the underlying note of hostility to be replaced by what sounded to Tom to be genuine care? 

He narrowed his eyes. 

The Russian stood suddenly, tucking his hands in his coat pockets before moving swiftly with lithe grace out the door, shutting it quietly behind him with a click. 

“We'll pick up where we left off tomorrow. I expect you all to be knowledgeable of the terms given today. I'm sure you all have at least a semi decent grip on them seeing as you are in the SAS, but then again, special forces never cease to surprise me…” 

There was rustling in the crowd as the soldiers packed up their papers. 

Tom gave the door one more glance before he stood and stretched, looking to the front where Alex stood, both arms supporting his weight on the podium as he took a deep breath, probably trying to steady himself enough to make his way out of the hall without passing out.

He would need to have a little chat with Alex about self care and making dangerous friends…


	10. Chapter 10

It had taken Alex all of five minutes to steady himself enough to grab his things and make his way off the stage and towards the back where Tom stood, arms crossed looking particularly bemused. 

The tired blonde brought up a hand, mouth in a thin line as he inhaled deeply once more, tightening his grip on all of his files and laptop. 

“I’m going to the infirmary.” he got out in response to Tom’s quirked brow.

“Damn right you are. You look like you’re gonna pass out” He furthered his point by waving his hand in front of the boy's face.

Alex narrowed his eyes in mock irritation before shooing the hand away. 

“I can see just fine, thank you. And I made it through the lesson didn’t I?” 

“Just barely!” 

“But I didn’t keel over, did I?” 

Tom threw his hands in the air in exasperation. 

“You’re impossible. You know that, don't you?” 

“Course. It’s just one of the many facets of my charm” he joked, shrugging wincing slightly. The blood-soaked sleeve had brushed up against the corner of his laptop.

But the sudden look of pain was gone just as fast as it came. 

But it was long enough for Tom to witness, and wince in sympathy. 

He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to get the image of that needle through the wrist out of his head….

“It's gotta be quick though. I have to check-in before six-” he glanced over to above the door where the metal clock stood.

“- and I now have about forty minutes at most.” 

Tom frowned before rolling his eyes. 

“And you're absolutely insane. You and every single one of those spies…” 

Alex burst out laughing before making his way towards the door, motioning for Tom to hurry up.

“If you're talking about Yassen, he's not a spy.” 

They trooped on, through the biting air towards the infirmary. 

“Then what is he?” 

Alex didn't answer for a moment, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 

“He's…. Complicated,” he answered quietly.

“He's an assassin, right?” 

“Yes. Among many things…” 

They walked in silence until Alex turned suddenly, expression serious as he made eye contact with his startled friend. 

“wha-”

“Tom, I was serious before, and I'm being one hundred percent serious now.” 

The sudden sincerity definitely threw Tom for a loop. 

“Yassen isn't a good person. He's dangerous and has absolutely no qualms against getting rid of people in his way. Anyone who even so much as irritate him.” 

Alex took a deep breath. 

“What I'm trying to say is, since you're going to have to stick by me, _please_ try your best to stay as far away from him as you can. He's incredibly manipulative and he'll mess with you. He's good at what he does, and if you get hurt I don’t know what I’d do…” 

Tom nodded slowly, unable to look away from the wide dark brown puppy dog eyes. Since when had Alex gotten so damn good at this??? 

It was borderline offensive how good it was….. 

He'd have to ask for tips later…

“Good. And if anything happens, if he says anything to you, _please_ tell me.” the speed with which Alex's tone changed nearly gave atom whiplash.

“What, so now he's some creepy old guy that can't be near youngsters?” Tom asked jokingly, picking up his pace to catch up with the surprisingly fast and definitely _injured_ blonde. 

Alex snorted, opting not to answer, throwing them into a companionable silence for the rest of the way to the infirmary. 

* * *

“No. _Absolutely not.”_ Alex hissed, arms crossed against his chest defensively. 

His face was devoid of expression but his stormy brown eyes gave him away. 

Eagle stood behind Snake, protectively holding the first aid kit hostage as Snake glared right back. 

“I _am_ a doctor Cub. You know this. Stop being ridiculous.” Snake tried to reason, trying his best to look non-threatening.

“And I'm SAS and MI6 certified to handle first aid in civilian and combat situations. There is no reason I can't handle it now.” Alex shot right back, poker face holding strong. 

“Everyone who is in the infirmary now is under my medical diagnosis and care. It's going to be me or Zebra. Your choice Cub.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes. 

“You're wasting your time and well as mine Snake. I just need antiseptic and rolls, nothing else.” 

“Well, then it shouldn't be this difficult, _Cub_.” 

They sank into a stony stalemate as the seconds ticked by on the metal clock above the door. 

Alex broke his glare first as his eyes flickered up to the clock. 

Tom was positive he saw a tense before Alex refocused his attention on the kinda terrifying Scotsman before him. 

He glared for just a moment more before taking a deep breath, running a hand down his face to scrub at his eyes. 

“Fine! Fine. But we've got to double time this. I'm already late.”

Eagle let out a celebratory hoot before going and setting the kit down on the table next to the uncomfortable looking bed. 

“Hop up.”

Alex moved surely over, taking a small hop to get himself onto the bed as he tried his best to not use his wrist. 

Tom took the chair tucked into the corner of the room at the foot of the bed.

“Right. Let's see it then” Snake nodded, scooting closer on the wheelie chair he had just seated himself on.

Tom had to admit, the man looked a lot less scary when he saw him through the lens of a doctor and not a soldier. 

His attention slipped for just long enough to miss the first fumble on Alex's part.

Alex winced, a low hiss escaping through clenched teeth as he tried his best to unstick the blood matted sleeve from his arm without touching the watch, which had evidently not worked due to the blood that had caked itself between the sleeve and the watch face. 

He let go briefly, inhaling sharply before going at it again, this time with a more “band-aid” approach.

Which definitely made Snake wince in sympathy.

But it had worked and the sleeve had detached itself from the blood-covered wrist.

Tom could tell that the man was _definitely_ not pleased. 

“What the hell is this?” he queried, reaching for Alex's arm, which he pulled back slightly out of reflex. 

Snake narrowed his eyes. 

“We're going to skip over the part where I asked why you've been bleeding and ask why all the blood is dry. How long ago was this?” 

“That's not important.” 

“It is.” 

“It's really not. And I _really_ don't have time for this.” 

Snake stared a moment, trying to get a read on the blonde before turning slightly in his seat to address Eagle who had been leaning against the door frame taking it all in. 

“Eagle.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Go get Wolf for me. And bring Fox while you're at it. They should be in the instructor’s hut.” 

Tom quirked a brow. _Smart man…_

“Nearly four hours,” Alex muttered darkly looking far from amused.

Snake turned back with a smile. 

“That wasn't too hard was It?” 

Alex frowned. 

“And why did you wait this long to have it checked out?” 

“I was busy.” 

“Busy?” 

“Teaching.” 

Snake quirked a brow, reaching for the bottle of antiseptic and wipes. 

“I'm the new instructor on terrorism.” 

“So that's what they were talking about…” Eagle said amusedly. 

“the newer recruits kept going on about some young instructor.” 

Alex responded with an eye roll. 

“This is going to hurt” was the last warning he got before he really felt his eyes roll once more as black crawled around his vision. 

“ouch…” Tom winced in sympathy as he watched Alex's jaw clench harder, trying its best to not let out any sounds.

“Had to get some in between the watch and the skin. Which leads me to ask, what type of watch has spikes?” he kept rubbing around the area with the wipes, trying to clean off as much blood as he could manage. 

Alex, who had regained function of his nervous system and voice deemed it best not to answer, glaring hatefully at the bottle of liquid pain on the table instead. 

“I can't do much more than clean the wound area and wrap It, so you're going to have to make sure you keep the pressure off of it until you can take this thing off.” Snake commented again, reaching this time for the scissors. 

“What are you doing!?” Alex asked sharply, jerking his arm away from the sharp points. 

“That shirt needs to come off. It'll be easier for you if you just cut the sleeve first.” 

Alex continued to scoot himself further away, keeping his injured arm close to his chest. 

“The shirt is fine,” he replied sharply.

“The shirt is covered in dry blood and will probably get your wound infected.” Snake rebutted just the same. 

“Alex, you've got like 10 minutes left….” Tom broke in quietly, glancing back up at the clock. 

“ _Shit.”_ he tried his best to take the shirt off with just one hand. The suddenness of the action and speed definitely threw Snake for a loop.

“Wha-”

“I don't have time for this!” Alex replied, practically shoving his arm at Snakes face. 

“Tom, I need you to go back to the hut and grab me a shirt. Just any shirt out of my duffle. I'll meet you in front of the instructor’s hut.” 

Tom nodded, getting up from the comfy chair with a stretch. 

“I hope he doesn't mind if I bring earbuds....” he muttered offhandedly as he made his way out the door, not giving a second thought to the two SAS soldiers. 

But they ignored him just the same. 

The mood changed considerably once they were positive Tom had exited the building. 

Eagle shut the door behind him as he made his way over to linger behind Snake who was nearly through bandaging his wrist. 

“So you're the new terrorism instructor.” Snake queried, wrapping the cloth once more.

“Unfortunately.” 

“Is that why there's a known assassin sitting in the instructor’s hut?” it was said neutrally but Alex could feel the tension of those words.

“Gregorovich?” 

“Yes. He's SCORPIA isn't he?”

“Not anymore…” 

Snake tucked the rest under a butterfly clip before sliding a bit back to face Alex, arms crossing automatically. 

“What's MI6 doing with an ex SCORPIA agent?”

Alex sighed before pulling the thin blanket off of the bed to wrap it around him as a temporary shirt. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. I've only been back for a few days.” he hopped off the bed. 

“Cub-” 

“Look-” Alex said firmly “-I have about six minutes to make it to the instructor's hut before I get brutally murdered, alright? I swear, I’ll get back to you. I promise.”

Snake narrowed his eyes at the solemn and serious tone of the blonde. 

“And it’s not like I’ll be able to stay a secret for too long. I’ll have to bump into Wolf _eventually._ And you know he’s going to want answers. _”_ He made his way to the door, struggling to open it momentarily as he juggled his newly wrapped wrist and his bloodied shirt and the blanket.

“Thanks _..”_ and then he was gone.

It had started snowing lightly as Alex sprinted to the instructor’s hut, one hand clutching both sides of the blanket to keep it wrapped and the other held protectively against his chest. The jolts pain from the uneven terrain was outweighed by the panic that was slowly setting in as the minutes ticked by.

Yassen would _not_ be happy about this. 

Questions would be asked...

Alex pushed on, adding the last jets of speed to get to the door, taking a breath before knocking. 

He didn’t wait for a response before entering.

 _Fuck_.

“Cub.” Wolf nodded in greeting from where he sat, behind the desk next to Yassen’s own.

There was another moment of silence before Yassen moved, straightening himself from where he sat atop his desk.

“You're late.” 

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

The order had been sharp, short and to the point in a tone that had left no room for arguments.

Alex had gathered the blanket from around himself and folded it quickly before offering it with both hands, eyes lowered.

Yassen had taken it and tossed it on the table before tossing the shirt he had Tom hand over as well.

Which understandably threw the blonde for a loop.

But he stood, back straight and arms by his side at attention, trying his best to stare a hole into the wall just behind the terrifying Russian who had begun to move, slowly but surely.

Or prowl, as Tom saw it. 

Prowl like a predator around his prey. 

But of course, Alex being Alex kept all of his emotions locked up under his blank facade. Something that _still_ creeped Tom out.. 

And then Yassen broke the silence, startling Tom who’d managed to seat himself next to Wolf who was also obviously engrossed in the going ons between the two. 

“Tell me, Alexander. What were your mistakes?” he kept his lithe pacing, hands clasped behind his back.

“Late. Unprepared.” Alex started, keeping his tone neutral.

“And?” 

I didn't notice Wolf.” 

“You did not notice your friend as well.”

Alex didn't say a word, shoulders fighting to remain untensed.

“Failure to notice the details means death in our line of work.” Tom shuddered at the bluntness.

“I could have killed you in more than ten ways in the time between your departure from the infirmary to the instructors hut.” 

Alex continued to stand ram-rod straight.

And that's when Tom noticed it. 

And he wondered in genuine shock how the hell he _hadn't_ noticed it before. 

It stood out prominently, a few centimeters under his right shoulder blade, dark and angry. 

A scorpion primed to attack. 

He froze.

_That can't be right…_

Wolf caught on soon enough, following Tom's shocked line of sight before his eyes widened as well. 

There was a beat of tense silence before Yassen turned towards the two, cold gaze settling on wide eyes. 

“Don't look so surprised *Corporal. It doesn't suit you.” 

Alex tensed. 

“Is that a SCORPIA tattoo?” he managed to choke out. 

“A branding, corporal.” Yassen replied bluntly leaning back in his seat, having completely ignored the blonde still standing at attention in front of him. 

“Excuse me?!” Wolf sputtered, rising to his feet. He made his way swiftly from around his desk over to where Alex stood, hands almost grazing the burnt skin. 

He almost wished he hadn't…

From a closer view he could see the criss crossing of vicious cuts and burns littering the toned back under the horrifically stark mark.

Bruises mottled the skin all over, but the real eye opener were the intricate waves of black that seemed to fan out like veins from under the mark itself. 

“What the _hell,_ Cub?” Wolf's voice hushed as his gaze snapped up to meet the icy blue. 

Yassen merely turned to face the blonde, gesturing for Alex to answer.. 

“It’s punishment.” 

There was a sharp intake of breath. 

“For?” Wolf prodded. 

“Defying orders.”

“Defying orders?” 

“And crossing SCORPIA.” 

“ _Christ.”_ Wolf hissed, taking an unconscious step back. 

Tom couldn't do much but stare as the pieces started clicking in his head. 

Alex had another brush with SCORPIA. It had to be from a different time than when he was fourteen because he most _definitely_ didn't have that little mark before. 

“It looks like the thing is poisoning you, Cub.” Wolf pulled his hand back, deciding last minute to not touch the grotesque mark. 

“It's a side effect.” 

Even Alex stood a little stiffer at that. 

_So even he doesn't know why…._

“That skin graft injection you received at St. Dominic's Hospital, it releases a toxin.” 

Tom's eyes widened. 

“In the ink under the brand.” 

Yassen shrugged.

“You were lucky you left before they started the full graft.” 

That definitely sent a chill down Tom's spine. 

He also wondered whether Matthews knew or not. 

_Probably not…. Damn shady spies_.

“You were SCORPIA.” It wasn't a question. Just a hard statement with an even harder look from Wolf who looked beyond shocked. 

Alex didn't respond, eyes boring a hole into a spot just centimeters above Yassen’s head. 

“No way.” Wolf started once more, arms crossing defensively.

“You're MI6. Fox said so.” he took an empty seat off to the side. 

“I wasn’t for four months.” was the eventual flat answer.

“What?” there were equal parts disbelief and frustration. 

“I was SCORPIA for four months.”

“I don't believe you.” 

“You don't have to.” 

Wolf grunted in irritation. 

“Why?” 

Tom was positive he saw a flinch. 

”I had a debt to pay off.” 

Wolf's eyes narrowed. 

“You joined a terrorist organization because of a _debt_?” 

Alex didn't respond,choosing to shuffle his feet instead. And then froze when he saw Yassen’s disapproving stare. 

“Look, it's complicated. And it's in the past. I joined and then I ran. They found me and then I escaped. Or, you found me. You and the other units…” 

Wolf's eyes widened. 

“That was SCORPIA?” 

“Among other groups, yes.” the tone change was _just_ barely noticeable, but Tom noticed, and for all that he was worth, he was pretty sure that the other two had as well. 

Sharp, almost pained.

He heard the blond’s breathing deepen as Alex himself tried to ground himself, working double time to stay alert while answering Wolf’s questions. 

He had no other choice. 

But the walls were starting to close in as the seconds ticked by and his hold on reality was slipping. He could feel it.

“Cub. Cub?”

He heard wolf’s voice reverberate in the strangest way. But then again, all the other sounds were tunneling as well…

Alex didn’t even notice Tom answering to Yassen, or the way his friend all but sprinted out of the building.

No. 

Reality was starting to blur, and for a terrifying moment he heard nothing at all. Straight _silence_.

And then he was gone.

________ _._

_They had beaten him until he couldn't feel his arms or his ribs. But he knew they were broken and he knew he was probably in shock._

_It had been hours since they'd started and there was no end. There was no apology. No information to give away._

_No._

_This was punishment, pure and simple, and he was terrified._

_This was Yassen overseeing him getting the shit beat out of him until he was straining to breath, dead tired but incredibly alive with whatever it was they had pumped into his veins._

_But that hadn't been the end._

_There was freezing water. Being dunked over and over again as he felt the harsh edges of the ice scratching his already bruised and sensitive skin as they continued to submerge him fully in the freezing ink black water._

_Or it may have been the walls of the tank…. But he couldn't be sure as his brain began to shut itself down from the lack of oxygen._

_And then there was the blinding pain of his jostled broken ribs._

_They'd finally decided to toss him out of the water._

_He almost cried out of thankfulness._

_But it was taken just as quickly as it was given as rough hands grabbed his wrists and shoved them into tight mancles which were connected to chains that in turn, hauled him up in the air, just high enough so his toes still brushed the ground._

_And brush they did as they tried to hold his weight up._

_Until the first hit._

_That stunned him momentarily. And then there was more. More and more and more. Until he was a sobbing mess, trying his best to keep his feet on the ground as he felt blood dripping out of the cuts on his back._

_They'd kept going until he passed out, only to splash him with a bucket of the cold water, effectively waking him once more._

_He could feel his heart beat erratically as they paused to inject him with yet another vial of potent uppers so that he'd stay awake._

_It was pitiful really, the state he was in._

_He hadn't had a proper shower in days let alone actual sleep or food._

_No, those necessities had been wasted in an effort to escape._

_He'd been caught and promptly returned to a terrifyingly serene Yassen who had ordered Alex to be delivered to the interrogation cells._

_And they'd been at it ever since for the few days or so._

_He had unraveled more quickly than he wanted to, but the lack of food and sleep had sent him into an emergency mode that almost shut down in the wake of the torture._

_He could tell that even Yassen was disappointed in the wake of all things considered…_

_But here they were as he tried his best to calm himself so that his heart would stop trying to kill himself. And then it really went to hell._

_It was a pain like no other._

_He could smell his blood burning as the volts of electricity ran through his body. There was finally a reprieve as he struggled to catch his breath._

_And then once more, somewhere near his broken rib._

_And within a moment of calm the voltage was turned up._

_And in all of the chaos he could see Yassen watching, calmly, eyes blue eyes never leaving the scene in front of him as he heard the useless pleas bounce off of the walls and echo around the island._

_It went on and on for what seemed like eternity before it stopped, leaving a writhing Alex dangling as jolts continued to run through his pained body._

_And then Yassen stood, talking with one of the men briefly before walking behind the blonde._

_He was too busy trying to breath to notice the sounds behind him, the clink metal against metal and the sudden warmth in the room._

_And then all at once he saw white as glowing metal melted his skin as Yssen continued to press the brand against his shoulder as Alex writhed._

_And then everything went, gratefully, black._

_….._

“-sorry Cub” was the last thing he heard before he felt a sharp sting at his neck, and then soft hands catching him as he slumped sideways into the cool embrace of unconsciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

Alex came around to a god awful headache, stiff neck, and numb arms. 

All ingredients for a terrible time.

But those were the least of his concerns.

The overly bright light shining down on the stainless steel table was the first thing his brain properly noticed before kicking into overdrive. 

He noticed the mirror next. Large and ominous. 

Two way no doubt. 

The cuffs he noticed last only because the pins and needles feeling running up both arms took precedence.

The room looked oddly familiar in a not so great way. 

But then again, interrogation rooms tended to be pretty much the same. 

Same grey colored walls with the same dark concrete flooring. 

Only this one didn't have a drain. 

_How lucky…_ he thought sardonically. 

Water was most likely out of the plans.

He sat up and tried his best to stretch out his burning muscles, holding back a wince as he heard cracks. 

This was _definitely_ not something he’d ever get used to in his line of work. 

It would always be the same unpleasant experience through and through. But if he was correct in assuming, from the make of the camera hiding in the corner of the room, he was still within the confines of Beacons. 

This was good. 

This meant he would have to worry about any overly hostile or unnecessary pain on the part of his “captors”. 

Probably a stern talking to by Matthews. A backhanded slap if the man was feeling particularly pissed at whatever it was that Alex had done this time. 

But all in all, things were looking good. 

Until Yassen stepped through the door.

Then it was looking bad. 

Very _very_ bad… 

He didn't look particularly _angry_ , not that it did anything to quell the growing unease Alex was feeling. 

Gregorovich had the same expression he had through the _brutal_ torture before.

Cold blue eyes stared calmly forward, assessing the situation at hand. 

He shut the door quietly behind him, pausing a moment before speaking. 

“You had a flashback.” 

Alex remained silent, trying his best not to seem too stiff. 

Yassen strode slowly over, lithe fingers coming to a rest atop the cold metal chair across from where Alex sat cuffed, before curling. 

Alex couldn’t help but stare at the ripple of movement across the smooth paleness of the back of Yassen’s hands as he gripped and ungripped in a dissonant calm coolness.

“You've also put your friend in the infirmary.” 

_That_ made him retract his emotional void. 

Dark brown eyes widened as he started searching, looking to see if there were any signs of a lie, which he realized subconsciously, was _incredibly_ stupid. 

Of _course,_ there wasn't going to. 

This was Yassen Gregorovich after all...

But, as the moments ticked by and the silence grew longer and longer, his heart picked up the pace. 

He'd hurt Tom. 

_Tom._

His best friend. His very best, very civilian friend… 

“He’s alive” Yassen relinquished his hold on the chair, picking up his steps again, hands crossing neutrally behind him as he strode slowly around the table.

“Getting treated for a broken arm and a few necessary stitches.” 

Alex looked down at the table, willing the ground to just open up and swallow him then and there.

He'd fucked up like he’d been _terrified_ he would. 

“Where's Matthews?” Alex asked, voice cracking from the dryness, aftermath of whatever he’d been given. 

Yassen simply shrugged.

“Somewhere over the Pacific in the last leg to Korea.” 

That threw Alex for a loop. 

“He has not been contacted.”

Alex opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by the sudden bristling of the hairs on the back of his neck as the man passed calmly behind him, moving with familiar measured agility and grace ingrained into Alex’s own memories..

And then it all clicked, and within the time between a heartbeat, he felt unrestrained terror crash over him as the strange series of events started making sense.

And for a moment he couldn't actually believe it. 

How had he missed it?!

Of course, the room wouldn't have a drain. 

There was no need. 

No need for unnecessary bloodshed when there were three separate electric outlets to put to use.

Alex sucked in a panicked breath as panic took root. 

Door bolted. 

Camera off.

And then his terrified eyes finally settled on icy blues, tracking them once more as they made yet another slow lap before coming to a stop just centimeters from where he sat trying his best _not_ to squirm away.

_Eyes forward. Don’t move. Don’t fucking move._

It was the mantra running through his head, growing progressively louder as he felt a hand curling around the back of his seat, _just_ barely brushing up against the still scabbing punishment.

He almost forgot to breathe in his haste to all but freeze as the man leaned down, bracing the other hand on the table until he was eye level with the blond.

“The game is over, Alexander. It’s time to remember now.”

Alex inhaled deeply through his nose, shakily exhaling in a last-ditch effort to _not_ freak out because he was _very_ close to doing so in the face of a truly threatening Gregorovich in his _terrifying_ element.

He swallowed thickly before turning his head _just_ so that they were eye to eye, fighting the flinch as he stared into the chilling emptiness of the man’s eyes.

*“ _пожалуйста-_ ”

* * *

Tom wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he could hear the very faint sounds of screaming coming from the darkened hut or the fact that the three other soldiers could also hear it but studiously opted to pretend not to.

He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but he had a decent idea, and it wasn’t looking pretty. 

He’d been discharged from the infirmary after getting a cast and a sling for his arm and being told to “ _take it easy.”_ with the orders to take his painkillers and get an early night’s sleep.

It had just gone downhill from there with Wolf seemingly appearing out of nowhere to accompany him back to the hut that he and Alex shared with expressed orders not to do anything stupid and to _“stay put”._

It had been around dinner time when Wolf along with Snake and Eagle had fetched him again.

They’d all talked for a bit, no one really saying anything outside of the neutral topics of weather and the going on of the camp. But the Alex sized space missing from the table, along with the not so quiet gossip conversations having to do with a certain MIA instructor on terrorism and a very definite SCORPIA agent sighting all on the same day was making it _increasingly_ difficult to ignore blossoming ideas in his mind.

Tom knew it was ridiculous to have hoped that the news wouldn’t spread, but there were at least six trainees who saw Alex’s limp partially bare body being dragged into the interrogation hut by a _particularly_ pissed looking assassin. 

Of course, rumors would start flying. 

But by the time eleven o’clock had come around with the actual units on lights out and the trainees on a night patrol, Tom was positive Alex was in danger. 

There hadn’t been a single sighting of either of the two again, and he was getting antsy. 

Of course, he knew that even if he were to find Alex there would really be nothing he could do to help, but as a friend, it didn’t sit right with him to let Alex stay missing. 

He had to know. 

So, he made up his mind and waited it out until 2 for good measure before creeping out towards the dreaded ‘off-limits’ building doing the best he could to channel Alex’s spy-ness. 

He even brought along his brass ring just in case. 

Not that he would be able to really fully use it against anyone. He knew his limits. And going by the fitness of _everyone_ else in this god awful place, he wasn’t going to be winning fights any time soon.

But it did make him feel an ounce better.

So, armed with his phone, ring, and crazy ridiculous resolve, he made his way over and into the forbidden place. 

And he almost wished he hadn’t….

Getting in was easy. But it was what came after that wasn’t so easy to deal with.

He hadn’t actually given any thought to this part of the plan...

The screams were worse than they sounded from the outside, all hoarse and broken. 

And the worst part was that he knew exactly who it was that was doing the screaming. 

Screaming and pleading. 

Something he had _never_ seen or heard Alex do. 

It was unnerving to say the least. 

He’d meant to just take a peek down the hall, quietly before he’d plan anything else. 

What he did _not_ mean to do was to pull the door to the other side of the interrogation room open and to step inside. 

He didn’t know what got him to shuffle over to the two-sided mirror.

But he did, and he was positive that he’d have nightmares for ages to come after his brain took in what exactly it was he was seeing. 

“Look at me, Alexi,” Yassen ordered, voice leveled, not at all bothered by the gruesome sight in front of him. 

Not that he had any reason to be.

He was the one who brought the situation to where it was now… 

Tom gulped, taking an unconscious step back but found himself unable to look away. 

Alex’s eyes fluttered, but he refused to do as he was told. 

The Russian pulled the blonde up to a sitting position before giving his face a none-too-gentle slap.

That definitely got Alex’s attention as he grimaced, eyes still fluttering behind his half-closed eyelids.

“Please... “ It tore through Tom’s heart, the utter brokenness of the sound. 

If months and months of captivity weren’t enough to bring Alex to his knees, he had a feeling that Gregorovich was far more terrifying a being than he previously thought. 

Yassen paused, staring for a moment with narrowed eyes before he shoved Alex back, causing him to slump against the chair eliciting a sharp cry from what was probably an unseen injury. 

And without another look back, Yassen strode out of the room and passed the room Tom was in without a single acknowledgment to the slightly ajar door. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

He had to get out right now. It was a mistake to come, and he understood now why it was that no one, not even _Eagle_ would let him anywhere near the building. 

But then again, he was pretty sure that whatever interrogation tactics were used in real life in the military would be very different from what was being used now. 

So with a last glance to his nearly unconscious friend, he turned to leave only to almost pass out from shock then and there.

Turning had brought him face to face with the devil himself.

He barely managed to get his hands over his mouth to muffle his surprised scream, fumbling backward to try to get as far away as he could. 

“My my...You are meddling in a _very_ dangerous situation, Mr. Harris.” it was said without malice but Tom could still feel the shiver go down his spine. 

“I-I just wanted to know he was okay is all,” he mumbled out, unable to keep eye contact with the man. 

“He’ll be fine” Yassen glanced over at the mirror into the room. “For now. If he behaves.” 

Tom didn’t know how to respond. 

“But since you were so concerned about your friend, why don’t you join us.”

Tom’s eyes widened as he licked his lips anxiously. 

“I think I’ll skip that one. I-I should be heading back..” 

There was a moment of frigid silence before Yassen answered. 

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

And with one last cold stare, Yassen turned and made his way out of the room, stopping to pick something up before entering the interrogation room, turning to face where Tom stood. He was positive the man could melt steel with his stare if he wanted.

It was unnerving, to say the least. 

Tom hesitated before walking over, heart pounding and hands shaking ever so slightly as he closed the door shut behind him. 

He froze for a moment before making his way to the seat Yassen had gestured for him to sit at, right across from Alex. 

_He was gonna be sick…_

The room itself wasn’t different from how it looked from the outside, but it was definitely different being inside the room itself. 

First and foremost, it was cold. 

Not Siberia cold, but the type of cold that grew the longer you stayed. It stung his skin. 

And the light. The terrible fluorescent light that made everything look much more dreary. But the worst of it all was the smell.

Tom swore he could smell something burning. Or something that was burnt already. All covered by a strange buzzing noise he couldn’t pin down. 

It set him on edge, as he gripped the arms of the chair tightly, trying his best to keep his eyes off of Alex. 

He needed to, or he knew he’d be sick…

Yassen on the other hand, got to work, pushing Tom’s chair further until he was effectively trapped between the seat and the metal table before him.

And then he made his way over behind the spy.

“It’s time to get up Alexander. You have a guest.” Yassen stood, tapping Alex’s cheek.

Alex in turn tensed, trying hard to pull himself back up to his sitting position, succeeding in holding himself up with the last reserves of energy before snapping his eyes open to find out what exactly Yassen was talking about. 

And for a terrifying moment, through the haze of seemingly never-ending pain, he was positive he felt his heart stutter and skip a beat.

* * *

Tom couldn't tell whether he was shivering from the cold or in fear. 

Total and absolute fear of the madman that stood behind him, and had been standing behind him for the past who knows how long, stabbing what turned out to be a taser into various parts of Tom's ribs. 

Although, as far as torture sessions went, he was pretty sure Gregorovich wasn't actually trying. 

Hell, the man even had the decency to inform him that the machine was set to the lowest setting. 

Tim shuddered to think of what Alex had been enduring before he'd walked in when he caught a glimpse of Gregorovich turning the dial way down back to level one. 

If this was level one, he could begin to understand just why the room smelled so… burnt…

He shuddered once more as the taser caught him at the tail end of that unpleasant thought, causing his neck to tense painfully as his body tried to fight it's way away from the uncomfortable prodding. 

It was nearing an hour since Tom had gotten caught red-handed and added to the session.

The man had managed to cuff Tom’s arms to the arms of the steel chair at one of his earlier spasms as Alex sat in abject horror, half shot up with whatever it was that Yassen had given him beforehand and half slipping into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. 

To be completely honest, Tom had hoped Alex would just pass out. 

He silently prayed every shock he received that his friend would just stop. 

Stop looking. 

And more importantly, stop feeling.

Because he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to get the image of Alex's expression of the first few shocks out of his head. 

The way the teen had brought himself back from the edge of unconsciousness just to find himself face to face with one of his biggest fears. 

He'd dragged Tom too close to the fire and now Tom was getting burned and he had absolutely no way of saving him. 

No way of muting out the first few cries of pain and shock as Yassen rammed the taser into those carefully chosen spots.

Alex knew. 

He knew those spots well. 

He’d been the one who had been on the receiving end of those shocks for hours on end before Tom had shown up, after all. 

But this was different. 

He was a spy. 

Tom was a civilian. He didn't deserve to be pulled into this sort of mess. 

The knot in his chest didn't budge even when Yassen had announced he'd set the shocks on level one. 

None of that mattered because Tom shouldn't have been in the cell anywhere _near_ the man in the first place getting tasered _at all_.

But he knew what this was. 

It was more than obvious. A classic SCORPIA move to pull. 

Psychological manipulation at its best. 

He knew he wasn't anywhere near where he had been in terms of training, whether it was because of the injuries or just because he'd let his guard down. 

But he knew damn well that in Yassen’s standards, he was leaps behind where the man had trained him up to be, and frankly it was unacceptable. 

Alex knew. He wasn't stupid. 

He knew what Yassen could do, and what he was ready to do, regardless of who or what it was that needed to be used.

But it wasn’t even a reset that Yassen was after. He had made it clear before they’d started _hours_ ago. 

In a way, it was an opportunity for Alex to find a bargaining chip in this mess before things got more chaotic.

A _strong_ one at that.

His mind raced, feverishly trying to think. To come up with something.

 _Anything_ , as Tom let out another pained hiss.

“ _думать(think)_.”

“I am! I swear I am! _Please!_ ”

The man relented if only for a moment, fidgeting with the instrument from where he stood behind Tom.

Alex clench and unclenched his hands, watching Yassen’s movements with obvious fear, holding back the frustrated tears that were threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

“Let’s try that again.”

Alex shook his head fervently, squirming in his seat.

“Pyat'. Chetyre.-”

“I’m trying! I really am!” he begged, unable to look away from Yassen’s cold gaze. 

The man didn’t hesitate, continuing the menacing countdown. 

“Tri-”

He moved the taser back toward Tom who squirmed as far as he could away from it.

“Dva. A'deen.” 

That was all the warning he gave before Tom was screaming. 

Genuinely this time. 

Leaps above the small hisses that had been steadily escaping before.

Alex could see it in the way Tom jerked back, muscles in his hands and neck visible as they contracted painfully from under his hoodie.

He remained contracted for a long moment even after Yassen relented, scream morphing into a distressed grunt, looking everywhere _but_ straight ahead where Alex sat, jaw clenched as tears slid from his red-rimmed eyes. 

“We are at fifteen milliamperes. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the progression, _Shura_.”

Alex inhaled sharply at the sudden memory. 

Or flicker of what he could only assume was a memory. 

_It had been unnaturally warm for the season. Yassen had mentioned casually as they sat under the sorely missed sun grabbing lunch outside a small cafe in_ _Tverskaya Street._

_“Finish your meal, Shura. You can’t take your medicine on an empty stomach.” he couldn’t tell whether the concern was genuine or not, but it had sounded real enough at the time. He’d gotten sick mid-mission, and things were headed south very quickly. But he knew Yassen had no intention of failing. So under the unspoken threat of failed-op punishment, he did what he was told, cutting up the rest of the meat as he oh so carefully ate every last bite._

Oh.

“Ulitsa Tverskaya…” he mumbled out, just above a whisper, eyes widening as he realized what exactly he’d done. 

He looked up, meeting Yassen’s cold blues with his own, wide-eyed with a glimmer of hope. 

The man stared, unmoving as the seconds ticked by to Alex’s own racing heartbeat. 

“Ulitsa Tverskaya. My last long term. It shouldn’t have been warm but it was!”

Yassen nodded. 

“Good.” 

Alex took a stuttered breath, sitting back in relief. 

“Ares-RF-4.” 

_Jesus_ not this again…

How many times had they repeated it? 

Until he heard it in his _sleep_.

“I don’t-”

Yassen was merciless, staring straight back at Alex as the raven-haired teen screamed again, even more so taken by surprise.

“Ares-RF-4.” he snapped the dial-up, holding it worryingly close to Tom’s left side, changing things up. 

“I don’t know! We tried! They tried even before they had me back in London. But I couldn’t-I don’t-”

Tom didn’t scream immediately this time, grunting against the waves of painful muscle contractions that had him shaking in his seat long after Yassen took the taser away.

And then Alex was begging again. 

In which language, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he was sure it was him that was begging. 

He hoped so anyway. 

But at the moment, things were starting to de-realize. 

_Dissociation._ It was what the psychiatrist at Dom's had written down in his file when he was briefed the first time around. When they found out that he _genuinely_ could not remember chunks of what had happened. 

_Depersonalization_ ? _Derealization?_ Was what the doctor told him was probably going to happen sometime soon during his attempts to remember. 

_Nothing to be too worried about as long as it’s in a controlled setting_.

He met Yassen’s flat gaze straight on. 

As controlled as they would get, he supposed. 

But it didn’t change the fact that he still couldn’t remember why the absolute _fuck_ that phrase? Code? Was so important. 

Ares-RF-4. 

It stirred memories in the back of his head but they were _just_ out of reach, running further away the longer he tried. 

“Try again.” He grabbed a handful of raven hair, tugging Tom’s head back to bare his pale neck from the oversized hoodie he was donning. 

Alex shook his head, growing more and more agitated as he realized just what it was Yassen was planning on doing. 

“No. _No!”_ He struggled in earnest against the cuffs. 

And suddenly the taser was _much_ too close to Tom’s neck. 

Alex could see the way Tom’s jugular pumped as the muscles around it tensed in blood-chilling fear. 

And for a moment, he realized what the good doctor was talking about. 

It couldn’t be real. 

All of this. 

This just _couldn’t_ be Yassen’s plan. There _had_ to be something else. 

He wouldn’t just-there was no way Matthews would have given Yassen _that_ much power. 

Tom was a civilian. 

A civilian with the knowledge of certain things he shouldn’t really have, but he’d signed the OSA. He signed it after Alex had joined on for real.

They were adults now, their own person. 

MI6 wouldn’t just let Tom get killed.

Would they…?

But this entire situation was off the record. 

Matthews didn’t know it was happening. And if _Matthews_ wasn’t aware, Jones wouldn’t have a reason to be either. 

And if anything, Yassen had already made plain how he felt about collateral damage. This is SO. collateral damage was just another ‘workplace challenge’ to be dealt with the best they could. 

This was real life. 

He wasn’t dissociating. 

Tom, his best friend, was in danger. Under the threat of death. Because of _him._

Because he couldn’t _fucking_ remember-

“I won’t repeat myself again, Alexander. Ares. RF. 4.”

“No!”

He felt the scream rip from somewhere deep in him, setting his chords on fire. But it was _nothing_ compared to the sudden pain flaring from his chest, as his heart pumped away, beating erratically. 

He couldn’t breathe. His heart felt like it was expanding _far_ past its point while his head felt like it was splitting in two.

And all of a sudden, all the sounds. All of the colors. Everything started warping into one twisted garbled mess before his saw spots jumping in his vision. 

And then he was falling. 

Falling.

Falling.

_Gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> пожалуйста - Please
> 
> Oooo Tom fucked up...


	13. Chapter 13

“Get Cub and Harris to the infirmary.”Snake snapped into action, assessing the critical situation before him. 

“Gregorovich noted seizure symptoms before he passed out. We can’t treat Cub in the infirmary. We’ve got to call for medevac!” Sparrow argued, rushing in behind Snake. 

Eagle straight hauled Tom up out of the metal chair, carrying him bridal style out of the room, speeding out towards the direction of the infirmary. 

“Negative.” Wolf made quick work of the cuffs around the blond’s wrists, pulling his chair back to give Snake room to get to his side, pen-light at the ready. 

“We can’t move him out of camp without the direct authorization of SO. Sergeant’s put an emergency request in, but no reply yet. The infirmary will have to do.” 

“Christ. We shouldn’t even be moving him at this point.” Snake hissed, checking Alex’s eyes once more before nodding to Wolf and Sparrow who stepped in to gingerly move the blond to the stretcher they had prepared. 

“And you-” Snake rounded on Yassen who kept his cold blankness. 

“You might be operating within SO’s guidelines, but don’t think for one fucking second that I don’t know what that fucking entails. This is the effect of torture, Gregorovich.”

“I am well aware.” 

“Snake. Not now.” Wolf barked, nodding to Sparrow to start transport. 

Snake took a deep breath, unable to hide his disdain for the assassin. 

But feelings be damned, this wasn’t the time to be emotional. 

As much as he hated to say, Cub was in danger, and they needed the man’s help. 

Especially with the _particularly_ thin file that Snake had been given prior to Alex’s reappearance at the camp. 

But, going by the bits and pieces they managed to connect together, he had a feeling Gregorovich knew more than he let on.

“You’re with me.” he managed to get out before turning on his heels to follow the other two as they rushed behind, following in Eagle’s tracks. 

Yassen nodded, keeping in just a half step behind Snake to his side, staying fully in the man’s peripheral view.

“It wasn’t just the electricity, was it?” Snake kept his voice lowered as he ran.

“Partially,” Yassen replied evenly.

“Details, Gregorovich.”

“It’s a side effect.” 

“Something _we_ gave him?”

“Partially,” he repeated.

“One hundred milligrams of Dextroamphetamine. Prescribed from SO.”

“Dextroamphetamine- a hundred? Are you joking?! Why the fu-” Snake cut himself off, readjusting the growing confusion and frustration for later. 

“And the other part? Pre-rescue?” 

“Yes.”

“ _Shit.”_ Snake hissed, puffing clouds against the freezing night air. 

They ran another solid five minutes before the lights of the infirmary breached the darkness. 

And within moments, everything burst sound and movement in a flurry of colors and action. 

“Emergency behind!” Eagle shouted, moving aside, rushing to one of the solitary rooms, ordering the trainees into action to bring a shock blanket, uncomfortably aware of just how much Tom was shaking. 

Just how fucking _young_ he was, to begin with in comparison to the ordeal he’d gone up against minutes prior. 

“He was tasered. Continuously. Won’t stop shaking.” he rushed before stepping back to let the trainees do their work, leaving him to trip onto the sturdy chair in the corner to watch helplessly. 

“Extensive use of electricity from a standard taser, but he didn’t seize while he was being tased. We can’t move him until SO responds.” He heard Snake shout, rushing in just behind Wolf and Sparrow who paused momentarily before being ordered to the room beside where Tom was laid out on the examination table. 

“Possible side-effect to unknown substances as well as a hundred mg of Dextroamphetamine..” 

The medic on call rushed out from the offices, taking a sharp turn into the room Alex had been moved to.

“How long after being tasered did he seize?” 

“More than thirty minutes,” Yassen answered immediately, standing at ease near the head of the table. 

“Do you know what the substance was?” the medic asked, stepping back to give his full attention to Yassen who shook his head.

“Does _anyone?”_ he looked around to the others. 

Snake shook his head as well. 

“It wasn’t in his file. They haven’t been able to find anything yet at HQ either.”

Wolf cursed under his breath, pacing from where he stood between Yassen and the medic, moving out of the room. 

Sparrow took one last glance back before leaving as well, ducking into the next room to make sure things were alright. 

The medic took a deep breath, _clearly_ unimpressed at the crap situation. 

“I want him watched for now..”

“And then?” Snake pressed. 

“And then we wait for movement. His heart rate _is_ a little high, but not enough to do any guesswork for anything else. What we know for a fact right now is that he’s had a seizure and is unconscious. And since we can’t medevac him out, there’s nothing else that can be done. Does that make sense?” the steel edge was unmistakable, pushing Snake to stand down. 

“I want to be informed the moment he makes any sort of movement. Alright, gentlemen?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Snake nodded stiffly.

“Good.” 

And with that the medic walked out, leaving Snake and Yassen in the eerily quiet room alone. 

“How do you know Cub’s on Dextroamphetamine? It wasn’t in his medical file.” Snake turned to face Yassen head-on, shoulders squared, ready for a fight if need be. 

The turn of events were getting a little _too_ spook like for his comfort.

SO be damned, they were SAS for fuck's sake. 

That had to qualify for _some_ sort of understanding in terms of the necessity of proper intel.

“That’s classified information,” Yassen answered easily, meeting Snake’s stormy gaze.

“Bullshit.” Snake spat.

“It’s not my decision to make.” he stood his ground. 

“He almost _died_ , Gregorovich. That’s got to count for _something_.”

And within the span of a millisecond, Snake swore he saw something flash behind the ice-cold blue eyes of the otherwise unreadable assassin. 

Had it been his emotions clouding his view, or had he-had he hit a nerve…?

He moved without thinking, hoping to god that the man wasn’t armed and trigger happy as he swung around to push the door closed, bolting it shut before turning back, fully expecting _some_ sort of weapon to be against his person. 

Only to be pleasantly surprised at the neutral distance. 

“Look. I know that you of all people probably don’t give a flying fuck about what MI6 want. They probably have something on you tying you here, and for the time being, I can say with a hundred percent honesty that I don’t give a shit about any of that. But Cub is a close friend. We trained together. He’s still technically a part of K-unit, and I for one don’t want him fucking _dead_.” Snake hissed, lowering his voice barely above a whisper, ensuring the utmost privacy. 

“So _please_. I just need to know what sort of situation Cub’s in medically. Keep the Spec-ops secrets to yourself. I don’t need to know anything else. Just enough to keep him alive.” 

There was a long moment of tense silence before Yassen answered. 

“He came back with a habit. Jones wants it fixed as soon as possible.”

“A habit?” 

Yassen nodded to where Alex lay, still out cold. 

Snake moved over with bated breath, pausing gingerly before proceeding in his hunt for what he really _really_ hoped wouldn’t be there.

And for a moment, he felt a rush of relief as his eyes brushed over both arm’s crooks to find them clean, only to have it all go to shit as he just happened to glance further down at the rough knuckles, before tracing up mere millimeters to Alex’s right wrist. 

_Of course_.

How many veins flowed down through the wrist and hands alone?

He didn’t want to but his hands moved of their own accord, flipping Alex’s hand over to show his wrist, littered with tiny scars. 

The flat of his hand was no better. 

_Jesus Christ_. Snake hissed, laying the hand back down.

“So they’re giving him Dextroamphetamine to get him off _what_ exactly?

“The blood work found cocaine among other things.”

“They found _coca-t_ he illegal substance? That one?” 

“Yes.” 

Snake’s eyes widened in genuine shock as he turned back to take another look at the unconscious spy. 

“There was a two day wait period before we got him back in London.” 

“You should know what that means, as a medic yourself.” 

_Heavy use_.

But it just _didn’t_ make sense!

Unless he was given it against his will…

“Okay. Okay… But the Dextroamphetamine doesn’t make sense. If anything, they should have prescribed him Modafinil.”

“The toxin in his system rejected it.”

“Toxin…?” 

The confusing conversation was cut short by a knock at the door. 

Snake jumped to unlock it, wrenching it open a fraction before opening it all the way. 

“Snake. I have bad news.” 

He paused a moment as he caught sight of Yassen but continued to step into the room, file in hand, re-closing the door behind him. 

“Matthews has been notified of what happened and the request to move Alex back to St. Dominic’s.”

“But.” Snake frowned, already getting the picture. 

“The request has been denied. At least until tomorrow morning when they can send an escort, around six.”

“Does he not realize that this is the SAS. We fucking found him during the rescue and retrieval mission. We can bloody well escort him to an actual hospital!” 

“I know-”

They were interrupted by a sudden flurry of movement from the table behind him as Alex fell back over, curling into himself groaning as he failed to jump up into sitting position. 

He had his eyes squeezed tight, jaw obviously set in against the wave of expected nausea. 

“Alex! Take it easy. You’re gonna end up puking your guts-”

“I know-” he cracked open a bleary eye, blinking against the bright light above as he stretched his still mostly immobile hand toward Yassen, scars standing out ever so starkly.

“Ares. I know.” he groaned again, shivering as his senses came back online all at once.

“Get the main medic!” Fox was out the door before Snake even finished his order. 

Snake, in turn, rushed to one of the end cabinets and wrenched it open, grunting in victory as he grabbed the bucket before rushing back to Alex’s side just in time as the blond started heaving. 

No one missed the way his hands shook or the sweat starting to matte his hair to his forehead. 

The main medic was by Alex’s side within seconds, trailed by a few extra trainees holding various things. 

“You said Dextroamphetamine?”

“Yes.” Snake answered, stepping aside to give the man extra room to work.

“Has he said anything?” 

“Yes.”

“Was it rational?”

“Yes,” Yassen interjected, much to Snake’s surprise. 

Okay. Well, everything else is pointing to serotonin syndrome. So I’m prescribing a round of IV fluids and Cyproheptadine.” 

Snake nodded, mind racing as he continued to observe, storing each snippet of information away for later. 

“And a low dose of diazepam to start.” 

The IV and all its extra additives were set up and inserted within moments and much to everyone’s collective relief, Alex’s breathing began slowly but surely reached a norm. 

The heaves took a while longer to subside, but by that point, they’d found him a decently insulated sweatshirt to put on as he half drowsed off. 

The medic had given Tom a dose of a tranquilizer as well, and within the hour mark, both boys were out cold leaving the entirety of K-unit plus Sparrow to figure out what the absolute _fuck_ had happened.

But much to their chagrin, by that point, Gregorovich was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun-Dun-Duuuuun.  
> The plot thickens.  
> I will say this though. Adult, fully-fledged agent, Alex Rider isn't as innocent as K-Unit want's to believe. Do with that piece of info what you will~


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler-ish chapter

A hush fell around the mess hall as Alex stalked in looking like death warmed over. 

Like what was to be expected after the bender of a time he’d had not even four hours prior.

But every bit _not_ passed out in the infirmary bed he should still be.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me...” Eagle muttered, turning to see what had just happened. 

Alex just kept moving, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, gripping on tightly to the file folder in his hand, expression stormy in irate exhaustion as the conversations returned to their normal volumes. 

“I know for a fact Kern hasn’t said that it’s okay for you to be up and walking yet, Cub.” Snake admonished, giving the blond a critical once over, obviously displeased at what he saw. 

“Personal visits from the head of SO tends to really change people’s perspectives.” he replied flatly.

“And, _you._ ” He slapped the file down on the table, shooting Fox a pointed look. 

“Matthews wants you to know that he’d _really_ appreciate it if you’d just mind your own _fucking_ business from here on out.” 

“And that he expects that back within the next hour. He’s over at the Sergeant’s hut”

Ben opened his mouth to retort, but Wolf cut him off, latching on without thinking only to immediately let as Alex hissed, ripping his arm away, hugging it awkwardly against his chest. But the oversized sweatshirt did nothing but make him look unsettlingly younger. 

The same one they’d managed to dig up in the early morning chaos where he’d managed to crawl out of the sweet embrace of death.

At least, that was what it had looked like. 

Felt like. 

Nineteen year old super spy Alex Rider had almost died no more than five hours prior by the hands of the most wanted assassin, Yassen Gregorovich. 

On British soil.

In the middle of a fucking _SAS_ base camp none-the-less. 

It was just-bizarre to say the least... 

And after the _too_ close call they’d all witnessed, none of them were particularly ready to just let the blond walk away like nothing had happened. 

There were just _too_ many things that could go wrong…

“Matthews is _here_?” Ben asked in surprise. 

“Unfortunately.” Alex replied dryly. 

“Why…?”

“Because _someone_ decided to try to hack some files, Ben. _Badly_.”

“Oh…?”

“Don’t fucking ‘ _oh_ ’ me. You better be grateful I didn’t sell you out like I should have.”

“Okay, fair. But you almost _died_ a few hours ago, in case you’ve forgotten. The head medic needed _something_ to work with.” Fox defended, not looking the least bit guilty. 

it

“Yeah. And I woke up super _not_ dead to the threat of getting _court martialed_ for hacking into the fucking _special ops server_!” Alex hissed. 

“So maybe _don’t_ do that again? I don’t need him to hate me any more than he already does!”

“Well then-” Fox grimaced. 

“I’m going to assume you won’t be the one taking this back…?” he pulled the file towards him. 

“I can’t.”

“Did he banish you or something?” 

Alex’s eyes narrowed at the gentle teasing.

“I have a lecture.”

“It’s not even eight.”

“They’ve scheduled a night mountain trek. Lecture’s been rescheduled to nine, and apparently Gregorovich has notes I need to add..” 

“Does almost dying not qualify for a day off?” Snake snarked at the preposterous implications of what the blond had just said.

Alex dismissed the obvious albeit sarcastic concern with a noncommittal grunt. 

“Matthews didn’t exactly come all this way to check up on me. He’s not really the ‘caring and concerned’ type. He came. He saw that I _wasn’t_ dead, commatos, or otherwise out of commission. That’s more than enough reason for me to be able to do my job.” 

“I’d say that your condition was a little past _concerning_ , Cub.” Snake rebutted sounding genuinely baffled at the turn of events. “ _Jesus_.”

“Any other questions?” 

“What sort of psycho-” 

“Great-” he cut Wolf off “-don’t forget to return the file. If you need me, you know where to find me.” he waved with fake cheer, scowling as he walked off, leaving the soldiers to stare at his retreating form in bewilderment, following all the way till he walked out the way he came in. 

“Is he being serious…?” Snake demanded, turning to Fox who glanced up from the open file with a grimace.

“About?”

“All of it. Is he really going to lecture? In his condition?” 

“Look. Cub wasn’t lying when he said Matthews isn’t the caring type. It would take nothing short of in-patient care order from 6’s doctor to grant days off for sickness or injury.”

“He almost _died_. Had a seizure and passed completely out and then woke up with serotonin syndrome. The only reason he’s not in a proper hospital is because SO denied moving him to one!” 

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Snake. I’m just saying. It’s no surprise Matthew has him up and working already. That and the whole hacking incident.”

“You really actually hacked SO?” Wolf quirked a critical brow. 

“Just the med-files. Smithers did it before during an emergency. Showed me a short cut.”

“Smith-actually, you know what? Cross that. What I want to know is why that has anything to do with Cub.”

“He’s a high level agent. And after he went missing back in August, anything and everything that has to do with him gets flagged. Jones made sure of that.” Ben frowned, looking back down at the file. 

“But at this point, I don’t know why Matthews even bothered coming at all. There isn’t much else here.” he pushed the file toward Snake who skimmed over it before hissing in indignation. 

“It’s just like the other file with redaction lines. The only new information is something about a severe burn on his back.”

“A burn?” Wolf perked, suddenly _very_ interested in the conversation at hand. 

“A bad one. They noted a possible skin graft. No follow up.” 

“He checked out before they started.” Fox added. 

“They let him check out that early?” 

“He left.” 

“Left as in, broke out?” Snake gawked. 

“Left as in, he walked out. Before visiting hours at that. So sometime between nine pm and nine am. He wasn’t there when I came to check around nine.”

“Where’d he go?” Eagle’s brows furrowed inquisitively. 

“Home.” 

“Home?”

“You’ve been there before.” 

“He hasn’t moved?”

Fox shook his head. 

“He did say that Jones was considering moving him closer to HQ. Said they discussed it again before he left late August. Chose a place and everything. But then the move got pushed with the whole R&R situation. His stuff is still at the old place, but with this whole teaching thing, I dunno if he’s going to end up moving at all.” Ben shrugged. 

“That and I’m pretty sure Matthews already seized his stuff. I mean, his house is technically listed under SO’s ownership since they haven’t signed it over after he turned 19. I wouldn’t put it past the man to do something shady like that.”

“Seized his stuff? Can they do that? Isn’t Cub officially MI6 now? He’s an adult now.” Eagle argued.

“He’ll be 19 this year. But he’s had back to back ops this year. So I don’t think he’s actually gotten to update any contracts. And then he got arrested for a little bit…” 

“What?!” the other three exclaimed in unison.

“You guys were here, actually. Before Puma got injured.” 

Wolf winced at the mention of their newest ex-fourth member. 

“Remember when B-unit and J-unit got called out to help MI5 with a capture?”

“Yeah?” Wolf nodded. 

“It was Cub. I’m pretty sure Matthews pushed it on to MI5 to be petty. I mean, he wasn’t even running. He was coming back from a long-term.”

“What..?” Wolf frowned. 

Things weren’t adding up…

“Yeah. From what Alex told me, he got a direct order to completely drop his contact. Cut the guy off. But it would put the guy in direct danger. Like he was positive the guy was gonna get straight up murdered. So he tipped the guy off. Ended up a few hundred kilometers off of where the original extraction point was. In a completely different country. They thought he ran.” 

“That’s fucked up…” Wolf grimaced. 

Fox nodded. 

“He wasn’t exactly in the best condition. Freaked out when they caught him cause he didn’t realize they were SAS. I mean, he realized quick, but by then he’d already put Lemur and Condor in the hospital. They had him in containment for four days after that. _And_ he was demoted to a CI for like a good two weeks. Ankle monitor and everything. But Jones really fought through.”

“So I’m guessing they’re not on the best terms, Cub and your boss.”

“Matthews?” Fox scoffed. 

“Oh no. They _despise_ each other. Actually, it’s more like Matthews just really _really_ doesn’t like Alex.” he shrugged again.

“It’s been a _personal_ disdain for a while now. Ever since he officially signed with 6. We’ve yet to figure out why.” 

“Would you put it past Matthews to purposefully put Cub in danger?”

“Purposefully?”

“I mean with the whole ‘walking out of the hospital’ thing. He just let Cub do that?”

Fox contemplated in silence for a long moment. 

“No. I don’t think he would. He’s a sadistic bastard, but Alex is an actual agent now. And he’s got Jones in his corner at the very least. It’s more like Matthews has no qualms of pushing Alex as far as he can go, and be a hardass about rules and punishment.”

Fox quirked a curious brow. 

“That’s an awfully loaded question, Wolfie. Why’d you ask?” 

It was Wolf’s turn to pause, debating how to broach the subject.

“The burn.” 

“What about it?” 

“It’s a fucking _branding_.” Straight forward it was. How he operated. 

“Excuse me?” Snake balked in wide eyed surprise. 

“I saw it. Yesterday after the lecture. Apparently Gregorovich needed to tell him something before they started training. The other kid, Harris? He was just standing around the front of the instructor’s hut with a shirt or something. Got ordered inside. And then Cub shows up in a fucking _infirmary blanket_ of all things…” 

“Wait. I re-bandage his wrist wound before then. How’d I miss a branding?” Snake interjected. 

“If he had a blanket, there’s no reason for you to have seen his back.” 

“True…” 

“Anyway. So he comes barging in a _blanket_ so Gregorovich orders him to hand it over. And then Harris notices it first and then I notice it, and I thought I was seeing things because there’s _no_ way…” he paused, frowning at the memory. 

“It was a SCORPIA branding. Kid had a scorpion burned into his back. Right near his right shoulder blade.”

“No fucking way.” Eagle exclaimed, tinged with disbelief.

“On my honor. I swear. Same one Gregorovich has on the back of his neck. So I checked it out for myself. The assassin himself told me that it was a branding. Apparently SCORPIA makes it so that getting grafted triggers a toxin? Cub left before they really started, but the initial injections triggered some toxin release.” 

“So that’s what that was…” Snake glowered down at the file.

“That’s what _what_ is?” 

He waved the question away. “So why does Cub have a SCORPIA branding?” 

“He said he was SCORPIA for four months.”

“It was technically four and a half months.” Fox answered slowly.

“You’re joking.” Wolf didn’t try to hide his disbelief. 

“But he didn’t go looking for them to sign up. It was more like-”

“To pay off a debt?” Wolf prompted. “That’s what he said.” 

“Kind of.”

“Care to elaborate?” 

“I mean, there isn’t much to elaborate on. I know he didn’t sign up to actually sign up. There was a problem and that was the best solution. He wouldn’t say anymore. Jones thinks he genuinely doesn’t remember. Maybe why he’s being so...obscure.”

“Amnesia?” Snake closed the useless file. 

Fox nodded. 

“But there’s just so much missing information right now. The fact that it’s an on-going op doesn’t help things. I mean, you’ve all gotten debriefed after the R&R. Everyone important got away. That means he’s in some real danger. I wouldn’t be surprised if the stress is triggering some sort of PTSD based amnesia.” 

The group fell into a contemplative silence.

“Oi! Quiet down, you lot. There’s been some schedule changes.” A familiar voice rang out, sending a hush around the hall.

“Morning run’s been cancelled today. Report to modern trrorism lecture hall B in twenty minutes. You get an hour of free time before lunch. And then everything post lunch will be the same. Dinner will _not_ be at six today. Report to the parade ground for further instructions.” 

There was a chorus of “Yes, sir s”.

“K-unit-” 

Wolf waved curtly in answer. 

“Eagle, Sarge wants you down at the range for both sessions.”

“Will do.” Eagle gave a thumbs up.

“Snake and Wolf, you two are helping with Rider’s lecture today. Gregorovich needs you in the instructor’s hut.” 

Sparrow paused at the silence. 

“Now. Right now. He didn’t sound too happy.” the two stood, sharing a confused look before the hurried out. 

“And Fox-”

Sparrow glanced back down at the note in his hand.

“Sarge needs you to ‘ _find Harris_ ’? Says it’s urgent.”

“ _Shit.”_ he snatched the file off the table before sprinting out, leaving a perturbed silence in his wake.

“Alright-”Sparrow recovered quickly. 

“Get to it.” 

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited/posted chapter!  
> (Found a plot hole. Fixed said plot hole)

"Are you really going to be alright?" Concern bled into his voice. 

“Don’t really have a choice not to be, do I?” Alex shrugged it off, but Ben knew better than that. 

Spy or not, they’d worked together for the past five years during which Ben had picked up on certain things concerning the ever-elusive Alex Rider.

He knew that the blond was secretive, with good reasons to be. But he was young, and he was _human_. But between those two disadvantages, what was left of ‘youth’ as a grounds for any sort of mistakes were dwindling expeditiously. 

Even so, with every day with every mission and subsequent losses, Ben could see the terrible coping mechanism taking a stronger and stronger hold. 

Emotions meant stress, and stress meant mistakes which, in their line of work more than likely equaled death. So, slowly but surely, Alex worked to cut that part out as well, burning it bit by bit as he went on. Or that was what the general consensus was in HQ. 

The very reason why Jones had ordered Alex to continue attending regular therapy sessions apart from the post-mission psychological analysis test sessions. 

Ben swore he’d never seen the guy look so baffled in the entire five years they’d known each other when he explained why he wouldn’t be able to make it to K-unit’s pre-deployment dinner the year before when they were sent on a last-minute half-year locationally classified operation. 

And it grew from there, with him ~~forcefully~~ attending sessions twice a week. 

But the truth was, they were all wrong. 

He wasn’t _burning_ anything. 

He just learned how to deal with it. And while his methods weren’t the _best_ , they _had_ helped him leaps and bounds from the shambles his mind had been during the earlier years on the job.

Ben knew because he’d been one of a small group of people that became something akin to a support network two weeks into Alex’s return from what had been a _spectacular_ failure of a mission. He’d been rudely awoken half-past three by a surprise call from Tom, who he had really only met briefly a few times when Alex had let Ben stay over a few days while Ben’s own flat was being repaired. 

_That_ particular memory had burned itself into his brain, never really numbing down with time, crawling itself out of the dark recesses of his mind.

* * *

(Two years prior)

There had been none of the normal cheeky assurance Ben had come to expect from the chaotic best friend of the all the more chaotic spy, which was what had caught his attention as he sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“Hel-”

“Oh god. I-I didn’t know who else to call-”

“Harris? Harris. Slow down. Breathe. You’re talking too fast-”

“It’s Alex.” that was when he realized, sending chills down his spine. 

“I can’t-I don’t know what to do. I-he’s just sitting there and I can see-fuck. He’s got a g-gun…” 

He’d never say it, but on bad days, he could still remember that conversation. Hear Tom’s panic sobbed words verbatim. 

Could never quite bury the memory of that heart-stopping hour.

He wasted no time, calling Snake as he toed on a pair of sneakers, grabbing his keys along with two miniature tranq darts from the key cabinet with his shaky hands before sprinting full speed out the door, cursing at the continued ringing. 

“Hullo?”

“Jesus, Snake. We’ve got a problem.” 

“Problem?” the sleep-awoken grogginess was fast disappearing, leaving the special forces side to come alive.” 

“You remember where Cub’s flat is?” he only barely remembered to buckle himself in before he was reversing out of the driveway, going from zero to however fast he could manage at the full-on accelerator stomping.

The tires squealed in protest. 

“Yeah.”

“Something’s wrong, I’m on my way there right now.” 

“Right. I’m leaving now.” 

“Oh, wait! Snake!” 

“What?” 

“Bring a medkit.”

“I’ve got one in the trunk.” 

___

They’d arrived within fifteen minutes to an eerie quiet in the chill of the early September morning. Ben had the lead, gun out and at the ready, covered by Snake who hoisted the sizable medic kit’s strap over his shoulder, at the ready with his own gun before they moved in. 

Ben could still remember the way his gut had dropped at the uncharacteristically unlocked door and the surprising coldness of the darkened flat that hit them as they crept in. But it was nothing compared to the blood-chilling, heart-stopping moment they’d found Tom, rooted to the spot staring out of the window situated just above the kitchen sink.

“Tom-”

Tom spun on his heels, almost tripping back into the cabinets. Of all of the ‘emergencies’, they’d been mentally preparing for, facing down a sobbing teenager who looked on the brink of a panic attack in a kitchen at not even four in the morning on a Tuesday of all days was nowhere on the lengthy list. 

“Hey, hey. Tom, it’s Ben.” he put his hands up in reassurance. 

“This is Snake. He’s a medic, alright? We’ve got this, okay? Everything’s going to be okay.” 

Snake stepped around the two to the window, sharp eyes roaming over the darkness of the small patio in search for whatever it was that had the kid so wound up.

And then he saw it, doing a double-take as his brain all but shorted. 

Oh…

His eyes never left the window as he pulled his phone from his pocket before setting his own gun down gently on the countertop.

He didn’t need to even look as brought the dial pad up, tapping out the number from memory., letting it ring. He glanced over to Fox, motioning with his head mouthing the words. 

Fox hesitated for a second before nodding.

“Eagle. It’s Snake.” the medic answered, just above a whisper. 

“Alright, Tom. I need you to trust me for a second, alright?” 

Tom nodded stuck deep in his haze of horror.

“We need to move.” 

Tom froze.

“Just to the living room.I’ll be with you too. Snake, he’s the best with these sorts of high-pressure situations, I promise. He just needs the space to work.”

“He’s actually gonna do it, isn’t he…? That’s why you’re trying to get me away. I’m right, aren’t I?” There was a spasm of hyperventilated breaths as Tom pressed himself against the cabinets, gripping the front of his hoodie suddenly finding it hard to breathe. 

“No, Tom. No. Absolutely not. Look at me-” 

Ben felt his heart stutter painfully for a quick second as Tom’s awfully young awfully terrified, bloodshot eyes met his, desperate for reassurance. 

“Cub’s still a part of the team, and that’s family, and there’s no fucking way in hell we’d ever leave him behind, alright? Snake and I both, we’ve got Alex out of worse situations in shite circumstances. No different this time around. I swear. But it’s a pretty tight space, and we need to make the best conditions we can, does that make sense?” 

Tom nodded slowly, wiping viciously at the tears. 

“Good man.” 

It was a lie that burned like a curse on his tongue. Ben never really forgave himself for lying so egregiously. But more than anything else, he never really got over the fact that not even he actually believed his own words. 

It had been mind-numbingly terrifying, but he needed to be there for Tom. So he put on his bravest face and walked out, following three steps before lashing out, stabbing a dart into Tom’s lower neck with a genuine apology, locking the teen’s arms to his side as he struggled. It wasn’t long before he went limp. 

Tom had never brought it up again, but Ben could see it changed him. 

A sort of death of innocence that he’d seen in Alex years before. 

He’d situated Tom in the back-seat of his car, making sure the temperature and airflow were alright before locking him in. 

Eagle arrived not long after looking frighteningly somber.

“Why?” Eagle hissed, meeting Fox’s eyes head-on. 

“I have no idea. Harris found him first.”

Eagle glanced over to the tinted car. 

“Harris? That kid?”

Fox nodded with a grimace. 

“Called me panicked.” 

“ _Jesus_ . He’s only like _seventeen_. 

“And so it Cub.” 

“Yeah, but Cub’s-Cub’s... _Fuck_. He shouldn’t be living the life he’s living either.” he tapered off, following warily behind Fox who led the way into the familiar flat. 

“Where’s the kid?” 

“Outside. He’s got a bottle of vodka on the table and a Sig in his hand.” 

Eagle rushed forward, stepping next to Snake, losing no time in locating the problem at hand. 

“Is he awake?” 

“He’s been fidgeting with the safety. I think he’s awake. A little drunk, maybe, but definitely awake enough to shoot.”

It wasn’t what any of them were hoping for. 

“I’ve got an idea.” 

Snake turned, facing the two with a hard look. 

“But it’s risky since he’s an instinctive shooter. And the fact that he’s in obvious mental distress. He won’t be thinking straight.” 

“At this point, I’d rather catch him alive for a bullet wound than have to call 6 for a post-mortem team,” Fox answered stiffly. 

“I’m not talking about risky for _us_ . I mean risky for _him.”_

The temperature of the room plummeted further at the disturbing response. 

“Risky _how_?” Eagle asked tightly. 

“Shooting the gun out of his hand, risky.” 

There was another long pause. 

“How?” Ben quirked a brow. 

“The way he’s sitting in the chair, you can’t really see it because it’s like those camping chair type fabric, but he’s leaning to the left where the bottle is. It’ll have to be a nearly tandem shot. Shoot the bottle first forcing him to the right and then take the shot for his gun. Someone’s gonna have to rush him from the back before he can get to his gun again. I’m sure I’ve got tranqs-”

“I’ve got one left, right now.” Fox pulled out the last dart.

“Eagle, you up for getting the gun?” Snake asked solemnly. 

Eagle nodded. 

“Yeah. I got it.” he glanced down at his gun. 

“I’ve got the bottle. Fox, keep the door unlocked and standby.” 

“Will do.” 

They rushed to position. Snake wiggled the window open a crack, taking aim with Eagle who tense himself against the counter. 

Fox brought up a hand, signaling he was in place. 

Snake brought a hand, counting down in silence. 

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And then the dead silence of the night shattered in chaos….

* * *

Fox shook his head, ridding his mind of the unwelcomed memory, meeting Alex’s stormy gaze. 

“I’ve just got to hang on for two hours and then I’ll get some shut eye.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Alex paused, hands hovering over the keyboard at the quiet accusation.

“Then say what you mean.” it lacked the gruffness to be considered combative, but Ben was prodding closer and closer to the center of Alex’s tightly hidden agitation. 

“It hasn’t even been a _month,_ Alex. You’re allowed to say that you’re not okay with this.” Fox argued in equal brusqueness.” 

“And how do you propose I go about doing that, hmm?” Alex retorted sardonically, shutting the laptop before leaning forward on the podium in a posture of faux interest. 

The cynicism in his tight smile was unmistakable. 

“You think Matthews is just going to let me go against direct orders because it makes me _uncomfortable_?” he scoffed

“Cause it fucking _stresses me out_? Hm? Makes me want to wash my brain out with some vodka?”

Ben froze at the cruel insinuation.

“He didn’t give a damn then, and he _certainly_ doesn’t give a damn now. You’d be dense to hope for anything else.” 

“Then find a way!” Ben’s voice climbed.

“Hell, I’ll ask Gregorovich to do it if need be. He’s the _actual_ SCORPIA agent. He’s more qualified than anyone else to teach it!” 

“This isn’t about him, for _fuck’s sake_!” 

Tom flinched, eyes widening in concerned fear as Alex’s cool composure started to crack.

“At this point, it isn’t even _about_ SCORPIA either.” 

He took a shaky breath, as he met Tom’s genuinely fearful and uncomfortable expression, willing himself to calm down. 

“ _This_. All of this is damage control for what happened.” 

Alex hesitated a moment as he chose his words.

“Because the mission itself wasn’t a complete failure.” 

Ben perked up at that, staring with renewed interest. 

“I found something. Something huge. Managed to send a message when I was in Tbilisi. Just a few keywords; ares, cibil chain, ibixgon, and serul.” he frowned, jaw tensing and untensing at the words. 

“They were important. I know they were. Kostornikaya mentioned them before she went missing as well.” 

Ben wasn’t liking where the conversation was headed…

“There’s a reason Matthews is getting hostile. And for good reason.”

Alex paused, eyes flicking just behind where Ben and Tom sat transfixed on his words. 

He swallowed hard around the constricting feeling of trepidation as he made eye contact with a set of cold familiar blue eyes that pinned him under the ice-cold murky depth of snippets of grim memories that flew through his mind, too fast and too blurred to catch but it left him sinking back into the chasm of fear and guilt every time he looked into the assassin’s eyes. 

He’d done something unforgivable. 

That much he knew. 

There was no other possibility he could come up with that matched the tumultuous emotions that ran rampant without reprieve, day and night, and even in his sleep.

But it was in knowing that that was the _real_ problem. 

Because knowing he knew made everything else unbearably, frustratingly difficult. Because-well, because… Because he-

“Because I messed up really bad this time around.” Alex took a shaky breath, taken suddenly by the familiar feeling of weightlessness. He could hear the familiar tunneling buzz in his ears as he fought to spit the words from his suddenly _too dry_ mouth while his heartbeat out a painful staccato. 

“And the most fucked up part is-” he pressed his nails into his palms, working to ground himself. He needed to finish. 

He needed them to know. Because it was _exhausting_ carrying such a heavy secret in addition to the added danger and uncertainty of the situation he was in. The situation he’d managed to drag Tom into. 

“-I can’t remember a single thing.”

There was a long moment of shocked silence as Ben absorbed the surprising yet _very_ concerning knew information.

“Why isn’t that anywhere in your post-op debrief files?” 

“That?” 

“I’m not joking, Alex.” 

“And I never said you were.” Alex retorted with equal bite. 

“I just need you to be more _specific._ There were a whole lot of points on the ‘that’ list.” 

Ben gritted through the sudden sass. 

“Your memory problem. There was nothing _anywhere_ about any sort of brain damage or retrograde amnesia.”

“Because I never sustained any brain damage. Come on, Ben. Do you really think Jones would have let me leave the hospital if I did?” 

His forehead furrowed in bewilderment, taken aback by the faulty logic of the seemingly obvious reasoning. 

Ben stared in silent observation, gears spinning as he worked to make sense of what he was hearing.

“It’s psychogenic then?” 

“That’s what the doctors put down.".

“That’s not in your file either.” 

“Of course not-” he scoffed. “You’re looking at the wrong one.” 

“...Pardon?” The change in Ben’s demeanor was immediate, jaw tensed, eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right. 

Something was very _very_ wrong.

“The file that you hav-had” Alex corrected himself shaking his head,“-the one that you were given as my emergency line. It’s a fake.”

“Why would SO give me a fake file?” 

Alex shrugged.

“I mean, they’re all just kind of like that, aren’t they? That’s their MO. Sneaky little bastards.” he snickered.

And within a fraction of a second, Ben swore he felt his heart stop, blood running cold in his veins. 

“Oh. You guys are really early.” every last trace of humor disappeared, changing abruptly to something completely different as Alex checked his watch, barely hiding the look of confusion that flitted across his face.

“Or not…” 

Ben met Tom’s uneasy gaze, sharing a silent conversation of confirmation of whatever just happened being real. 

“Was there a problem with the new schedule?” Ben asked, glancing back just in time to see Gregorovich walk out.

“No. It’s nothing.. I just-I swear we still had fifteen minutes left before lecture started. We only actually have five.” Alex answered ruefully, scratching absently around his watch before snapping back to attention to re-open the presentation. 

“Oh, Tom, mate. By the way.” 

“Hmm?” 

“I don’t recommend sitting up front for this one.” Alex disclosed almost apologetically. 

“Actually, I don’t really recommend sitting in on this lecture at all. It’s gonna be gruesome.” it was all the warning he got before the bloody vivisection was projected on the back wall in spine-chilling definition.

“Lots of images today.” 

Squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath before opening them again. 

“I’ll pass.” 

“Really..?” 

“Well, the boss man, Sergeant Barrett?” 

Alex nodded. 

“He said I either stick with Daniels or I stick with him.” 

“With the Sergeant…?” 

“Exactly.”

“And I’ve got orders to keep an eye on you.” Fox added. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, in that case, I’m really sorry, Tom.”

“It’s-it’s fine. I’ll sit in the back like last time. Got my earbuds with me as well.” he said with a rye smile, fishing them out of his pocket. 

Alex nodded. 

“I’d avoid the door. Yassen gonna be in and out.” 

“ _Fully_ noted.” Tom eased slowly to his feet, giving Alex a mock salute before making his way to the back. 

“Alex, hey-” 

“Yeah, Ben?” 

“If you need anything, you know the drill, right”

“Yeah. I'll keep that in mind. Thanks." 

* * *

"Eagle's locking down the armory. He said he'll be here as soon as he can so save him a seat in the back." 

"Are you two not staying?"

"No, we are. Snake and I've got orders to help with Cub's lecture today."

"Help how?"

"Gregorovich wants us to point some questions in the right direction sometime during the thing. Didn't really give any more detail than that." 

"He wants you to manipulate the lecture?" 

"Sounded more like he wanted us to manipulate Cub. Real SO type stuff."

Wolf frowned.

"Fox, be honest. Is Cub…Is he okay?" 

"More or less..." 

"I'm not asking agent Daniels. I'm asking Ben. And I'm not asking about agent Rider, I'm asking about Alex, the _teenager_." 

The suddenly sobered admittance through Ben for a loop as his eyes flickered from Wolf and Snake who shared equal expressions of concern as they stated him down. 

"No. I don't think he is…" 

Snake took a sharp breath, eyes resolute like something had been proven. 

"It has something to do with today's lecture, doesn't it…?"

Fox nodded, glancing over at where Alex stood, eyes glued to the screen in front of him, looking _particularly_ focused. 

He swallowed thickly, jaw working as he turned back to face the two.

"Do me a favor?"

"Yeah?" Snake and Wolf answered at once. 

"Keep an eye on Alex." 

They grunted an affirmative. 

"And for the time being, I need you to doubt him." 

"Well _that_ 's not anywhere _near_ what I expected you to say…" snake responded in half hearted jest. But the attempt at lightening the mood fell flat, _fast._

"What the fuck is going on, Ben?" Wolf snapped, obviously past the point of casual acceptance in the growingly strange conversation. He wasn't '6 and he certainly _didn't_ like the sudden cloak and dagger modus concerning the blond. It set him on edge.

"Look. It's a hypothesis as of now. I need more proof before actually acknowledging it."

"For f-" 

"Just give me the two hours until the end of the lecture and I'll tell you everything I can. Alright?" 

Wolf narrowed his eyes, body tensing in disapproval, but he nodded nonetheless. And so did Snake, before they ambled over to take their seats saving one for Eagle up against the wall, preparing themselves for whatever it was waiting for them in the next two hours. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TBH, I'm already brainstorming the one-shot for this little memory/moment.


	16. Chapter 16

“Anyone remember the name I dropped with this photo last time?” 

There was a flurry of hands and Alex chose one near the front. 

“Three?”

“That’s right.” he nodded in approval, flashing a tight smile. 

“Doctor Three. Is that his real name? Probably not. But the man hasn’t had an actual name in years, so it’s as good as it’ll get.” 

He zoomed in a little further, ignoring the revolted grunts coming from around the room.

“Any guesses at how old  _ this  _ guy is?” the image blurred a little further before it refocused on the face of the  _ obviously  _ distressed man atop the gleaming operating table.

“Anyone at all. Don’t be shy.”

_ “Twenty-eight.”  _

_ “Thirty-two” _

He waited until a few more answers bounced back.

“I mean-” he turned, taking a long look at the sobering image. 

“Looking at him now I guess…” he turned back, cutting his mumbled thoughts off with an almost distracted hum. 

“Ibram Ganim. Twenty-two year-old doctor originally from Syria. Real young. A prodigy by all means. Moved to Turkey for a medical fellowship. Man’s done some  _ seriously  _ amazing work on pediatric CID, also known as combined immunodeficiency. Worked as a volunteer doctor on the weekends in low-income areas. I’ll stop there, but as you’ve probably guessed,  _ good  _ good guy.” he glanced back once more, jaw moving of its own. 

“He stepped into a kidnapping. Monday evening, after he’s clocked out late, from the hospital, he heard a commotion in an alleyway by his flat. Said he heard kids screaming. Rushed over, fought the guys off-or tried to at least. And then he woke up  _ here _ .” Alex keyed back a few slides to the map of Malagosto. 

“He interfered with a few low-level SCORPIA trainees fucking around during a routine sweep of the area. Just happened to happen the day he came home a little later than normal.” 

Ben tensed from his vantage point in the back. 

Alex hid it well, but he wasn’t the only agent here. 

It was a stumble that was only a stumble because Ben knew that the blond never paused like that when he was in front of a crowd in a lecture or an orientation or whatever else punishment type presentations 6 had him do before. 

But Alex recovered just as fast within a fraction of milliseconds, clapping his hands together to gather the room again. 

He casually leaned over, arms braced atop the little space left on the podium having gently scooted the laptop over. 

Ben didn’t have to look to know his legs were probably crossed as well, in the bloody casual way he seemed to be able to revert to in any situation. 

A nonchalance that fit a little  _ too  _ well with his age. 

“Now, I say this-” he clicked back to the zoomed-in image.

“-because I need you to realize that when I say that this man, Doctor Three, is dangerous, I mean it. He is  _ deadly  _ and more than a little depraved. Absolute psychopath. But he’s good at what he does.” he zoomed out again. 

“So going by what you now know, about Ibram.” he gestured vaguely at the screen behind him. 

“How long do you reckon he was alive for?” 

The apprehension was palpable. 

Alex’s posture didn’t change one bit.

“Three hours…?”

“Three?” he shrugged.

“Alright. We’ve three hours. Anyone else?”

“Ten hours.” 

“Alright.” he nodded. 

“Snake, you’re a full-on medic. What say you?” 

The Scottsman grimaced, staring up at the screen. 

“I’d say maybe two days at most. Not long, since his fucking  _ intestine  _ in literally on the  _ floor… _ ”

“Fair point.” Alex nodded.”

“This man-” he straightened up, looking down at the screen, suddenly sounding all too solemn. 

“-Ibram Ganim. Stayed alive for a little over four days.”

“ _ Jesus. Poor bastard.”  _

Tom couldn’t help but agree. 

“Well, technically Three was the one who kept him alive that long. A little over four days at one hundred and thirteen hours.” he hissed out a breath. 

“The only reason he ended up dying when he did was purely cause of someone else’s fuck up.”

All ears were on him again, rapt in attention. 

Alex definitely knew how to handle a room. 

“He died of a heart attack. Someone mixed a little  _ too  _ much cocaine into the ‘life substance’ they Three was feeding him. Poor bastard’s heart couldn’t take the additional stress and...he hasn’t been seen since.” 

The somber silence sent chills down Tom’s spine. 

“One hundred and thirteen hours.  _ That’s  _ how talented this man is. The lengths he can go and  _ will  _ go to for shits and giggles. And there are maybe, twenty people alive-” he debated “-that actually knows what this man looks like. Or what he looked like most recently. He goes under the knife every so often to shake things up.” 

Alex moved on to the next slide. 

“What we  _ do  _ know is that he’s  _ very  _ knowledgeable about poisons. Kind of like a weird hobby. But it means that there’s a  _ really  _ good chance every now and then when someone high up ends up gets poisoned, that whoever did it was in contact with Three at some point. And with SCORPIA being-supposed to be-disbanded, it’s one closer lead we get to the man.”

“Supposed to be?” Alex level Snake a flat look. 

“Sorry.” 

He didn’t look sorry. 

“There tend to be off-shoots every now and then-” he leaned back against the podium, arms crossed, relaxing again. 

“-I mean, you were a part of the clean up for the SNAFU in Krasnoyarsk. You saw what happened.” he quirked a brow.

“Like I was saying. SCORPIA isn’t exactly a fully-fledged group anymore. But there are still people who used to be high-level agents who’ve managed to get out just fine. Like Three.” 

The bulleted points disappeared, replaced by a photo of a smiling young man. 

Blond hair. 

Bright blue eyes. 

Rugged jawline.

Smiling with genuine humor donning a noticeably bright scarlet beret with crisp military blues.

“Alexander Marks. ‘Alex’ to his friends and family. Twenty-six years old. Airman in the US Air Force Combat Control. In case you all aren’t aware of what that is, USA FCC are basically one-man attachments to other special forces teams. Highly specialized. They’re trained in a wide range of skills, including scuba, parachuting, and snowmobiling, as well as being FAA-certified air traffic controllers in order to establish air control and provide combat support on missions wherever they are needed.” 

That earned some appreciative nods from around the room. 

“He was last seen somewhere near the Bolivia-Peru border in South America on a joint exercise with Peruvian Air Force. He was listed present when they landed in camp and was cleared to join the stealth parachuting portion of the exercise as well. By all means, accounted for until they choppered back to base. And then he was suddenly not there anymore. Everyone swore they saw him get on. No one knew where he was. He’d been missing since late last year.” 

He moved to the next slide. 

“They found him five months ago.” 

The image was gruesome in its own way. Not entirely the same as the last, but it set Tom’s stomach flipping just as much as the other.

There wasn’t much left of the man, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks indicative of starvation and mistreatment if the dark bruises on the man’s neck were anything to go by. And the split lip that looked like it hadn’t healed in forever. 

Whoever was in charge of the sick little photo op had oh so  _ graciously  _ draped the torn up scarlet barret on his badly shaved head, adding salt to the already festering wound. 

“CIA received  _ this  _ image with a set of coordinates from an informant in Brazil of all places saying they’ve heard some whispers.” 

**44.5298° N, 69.2968° W**

The coordinates popped up on the slide. 

“Lo and behold, in a  _ seriously  _ twisted turn of events, those coordinates pointed them to a place called  _ Freedom  _ in the state of Maine. The Northeastern United States. Meaning, this man could have been in the country the entirety of his disappearance.” 

Alex winced. 

“They searched a little harder, took them a good while, but they eventually found him. Someone put in an emergency call when a bunch of drunk vacationers had a boat collision on a lake that’s popular for their rental cabins. They ran into the side of an empty fishing boat to find it wasn’t actually empty.” 

Tom couldn’t help but agree with Ben’s empathetic hiss. 

“He didn’t survive the collision. The vacationers, unfortunately just a few months underaged, were charged with individual counts of BUI and possession of alcohol by a minor.”

“The fuck’s a bui…?” he didn’t mean to, but before he knew it, his voice had carried in the quiet. 

Tom froze as all eyes turned towards him. 

“Shit. my bad…” his hand rushed to cover his mouth. 

“‘’S fine. I’m sure you’re not the only one wondering that.” Alex waved Tom’s apology off. 

“With the Merchant Shipping Act of 1995, there are additional bylaws in the UK as well that make it illegal for anyone operating a vessel to be under the influence, for safety reasons, obviously. It’s called a BUI in America. Boating Under the Influence. Very cute.” 

That earned some chuckles, lightening the general mood. 

“And with their legal system ranging from state to state, it just happened that the state of Maine has a zero-tolerance policy. Real ballsy kids.”

He shrugged with an amused smile. 

“So a year and some months later, case closed. He’s given a full military funeral. The end.” 

Another photo popped up on the screen. 

“Aliona Krostnikaya. Twenty-five years old.” 

He gestured to the screen behind him at the photo of the young brunette on the left. 

“MI6. specially recruited from MI5 for her research on possible Baltic state hostiles within the UK. A three-year personal study that yielded pretty interesting results. Particularly the arrest and repatriation of Kaspar Palm. A fifty-seven year old running a small-time money laundering business in Leeds. MI6 were interested in her vast knowledge of the Baltic States and brought her in as a specialist. She was cleared for active missions a year later. Been working on small reconnaissance ops near the Baltic shoreline, Russia in particular, but was partnered with a-” he gestured to the photo on the right “-Petras Moze. Active high-level agent.”

Tom could see Ben grimace out of the corner of his eye. 

“They were sent on a strictly reconnaissance only op for a possible deal between some drug lord and Doctor Three himself.” 

He moved to the next slide, and Tom couldn’t squeeze his eyes shut fast enough.

“They found her like this in a duffle bag outside MI5 HQ two weeks ago, limbs chopped off. And yes, that  _ is  _ her intestines holding everything together. And in case you’re wondering, that weird black thing you see dangling next to her knee, that’s her heart. It’s just rotting.” 

_ Jesus Christ.  _ The  _ imagery _ . 

“And as for Moze, forensics think there’s a good chance he was burned alive.” Tom opened his eyes just long enough to see what looked like a badly colored illustration of what someone imagined a human outline to be. He couldn’t really tell where his arms or legs began from the level of  _ burnt _ , but the bizarre passport-style close-up photo of the man’s emotionless face dangling from the nail driven into where Tom could only assume was the man’s forehead just made the image  _ that  _ much more unsettling. 

Fucking twisted ‘ _ artsy’  _ bastards these terrorists were.

“He popped up three days ago. Some poor jogger found him laid out like this on one of the docks near Camden Market around four-five in the morning.” 

He moved to the next slide, not reacting one bit at the sudden drop in the temperature as the eyes in the room focused on a specific image in the rows of photos.

Three columns of three rows. Three by three by three, making up nine equally sized, equally official photos of separate nine individuals. 

“Lucky for you all, you get the  _ latest  _ of the latest intel. And by that I mean, everything you’ve heard today post Doctor Three, and everything else you’ll be hearing; it’s only passed redactions and vetting as of yesterday.” 

His eyes flickered down at the screen. Tom could have sworn he saw Alex frown before it was smoothed back into the professionally blank mask.

“As for the question of credentials-” the temperature plunged further. 

“-regarding SCORPIA at the very least, and what’s left of it. Here it is. The full list of known operatives who have been running any and all ops connected to SCORPIA. Petras Moze was the last operative who was unaccounted for. As you can probably guess, the Xs denote KIA status.” 

Tom couldn’t look away. 

Seven. 

_ Seven  _ out of the nine had the red Xs. Alexander Marks. Aliona Krostinkaya. Petras Moze. All of them, dead. And those were only the ones Alex had covered. 

“Operatives from the UK, US, Canada, Australia, Germany, and Israel with the same objective. But this is what happens. Seven, highly trained, highly certified operatives,  _ dead _ .” He glowered down at the screen, jaw working in checked emotion. 

“And for what?” he shrugged. 

“We have yet to locate Doctor Three, and the island Malagosto has been recently abandoned. As of now, all of the information gathered on Malagosto and potential hideouts and businesses belonging to SCORPIA around Venice and the rest of Italy are now functionally useless. There has been minimal activity after Moze’s surprise arrival.”

One step forward, two steps back…

“And that’s about all there is as of now you all should be aware of, concerning SCORPIA. So with that-” he moved to the next slide. 

“We’ll start on the next biggest issue. A SCORPIA part 2 if you will-yes, Wolfie?” 

“Just had a quick question ‘fore we moved on.” 

“Is it  _ absolutely  _ necessary…?” 

“For my overly curious mind, yes.” 

Tom almost joined in with the amused chortles around him. 

To hear such a ridiculous statement coming from such an intimidating man in such a deadpan manner. After the rollercoaster of emotions, they’d gone through in the past hour and some. He could help but snort as he saw the sardonically tight-lipped almost-smile-mostly-grimace his friend sent the man. 

“Oh by all means…” 

The cynicism turned to scorn and then to cold-blooded blankness as he realized where the question was going. His gaze moved slowly but surely from Wolf to the figure sitting in his previous spot by the door as he had the last time. 

Tom glanced over, fighting the goosebumps as he realized the man was actually there. He hadn’t been for the early parts of the lecture. And Tom’s attention had been moving around the room. So the fact that he’d somehow gotten in past Tom’s attention, and seemingly past the attention of Snake and Eagle as well… 

It was creepy to say the least. 

Creepy and unnerving. 

“About Gan-” Wolf’s forehead scrunched in momentary confusion. 

“Ganim,” Alex answered shortly, pulling his attention back to the man. 

“Ganim.” Wolf nodded in affirmation. 

“How do we know about this man?” 

“We?” 

“6 or whoever. I’m guessing it was 6 that gathered the intel.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I understand tracing where he was to figure out what happened to the guy, but how does 6 know about anything that happened in Malagosto? Like how long he survived.”

Tom’s chest squeezed uncomfortably. 

He’d known a little bit about Alex. Probably a lot more than any of these men sitting in the room, possibly apart from Gregorovich, but that was a different story. 

And from what he knew, he could see the hazy outline of a possible answer. 

One that he really  _ really  _ hoped  _ wasn’t  _ going to be correct. 

“Because I counted.” 

Wolf paused, glancing over at Gregorovich. 

And then Ben saw it, between the blink of an eye. 

Alex leaned forward again, elbows on the podium, propping his head up with his hands. 

“We were cellmates for a bit.” He nodded to himself, lost in a brief moment of recollection. 

“Oh…” 

“Mhm. Around when I attempted to leave.” 

Ben’s eyes widened at the sudden sharing of previously hidden info. 

“You were the-you tried to run?” 

“I did. And I failed pretty badly.” 

“ _ Christ _ , Cub!” things were getting out of hand. 

This wasn’t what any of them had prepared for in terms of a little topic manipulation. 

No one had even come  _ close  _ to assuming that Alex would just go off the deep end from the get-go. 

But Gregorovich’s lack of action made him question everything again.

“Mhm. Three was put in charge of my secondary punishment.” his eyes met Yassen’s straight on, lingering a brief moment before moving back to Wolf.

“What-” Wolf took a breath. 

“What did he do to you?” he asked, voice surprisingly leveled. 

“Not to  _ me _ . The question should be, ‘what did  _ he _ make me do to  _ Ibram _ .’” Alex winced at his own answer. 

“Because he made me do  _ a lot _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to start unraveling a lil bit~  
> Any guesses on what Ben's theory might be?


	17. Chapter 17

“Did they know that you-uh…” 

“That I killed him on purpose?”

Wolf couldn’t even _begin_ to wrap his head around how those words popped so nonchalantly, nevermind from someone so _young_ …

“They did.” Alex nodded.

“Or Three did, anyway." He shrugged nonchalantly. 

"He was pretty disappointed his experiment was cut short." 

"He just let it go?" 

"I didn't say _that_ . I said he was disappointed. And _I'm_ the one who disappointed him. There was obviously bound to be repercussions to that…to disappointing him. Three doesn't really do well with disappointment. Or anger. Emotions aren't really his _thing_. Said it drives up his hypertension." 

_"What he do?_ " Someone in the back called out, breaking the startled silence. 

"He locked me in an oxygen circulated casket pumped up to my eyes with the same dosage I gave Ibram and had me buried. Left me in there for a solid twenty-four hours. Let me mull over my ‘ _egregious actions’_."

Alex scratched at his arm absentmindedly, unconsciously jostling his watch just barely smothering the hiss of pain.

He frowned, glancing down, tugging the sleeve back down over the watch.

“But all things considered as far as punishments go, it was definitely on the more merciful side of things.” he mused. 

“Are you taking the _fucking_ piss?” 

It was the perfect mix of _just_ enough astonished bewilderment and perturbed concern in Wolf’s tone that had Tom choking back laughs, ducking back into his hoodie like some sort of weird chortling turtle.

The tears of mirth only started stinging once Ben reached over to give him a few cautious albeit reassuring pats on the back.

“I mean, he could have just used me as the new vivisection specimen. So I’m understandably just a little bit grateful he didn’t, you know?”

The sarcasm was biting but Ben could tell the topic was hitting a little close for comfort. 

“Alright. Moving on.” he clapped. 

“ARES Initiative.” The sounds fell away into the air of solemn somberness. 

“I said SCORPIA part 2, but it’s more like a *Treadstone situation. The operation is more important than the group in this one, mainly because we have no idea who’s actually behind all of this.” 

He paused, taking a breath.

“What we _do_ know is that it is connected in some sort of way back to SCORPIA. And we know this because there have been matching intelligence from two different operatives at two different times from two different agencies.”

He moved to the next slide. 

“This man, Uri Azoulai. Thirty-two. Mossad. The only other one that made it back alive..” 

It was brief, but Ben had been lucky. He saw the way Alex gripped the sides of the podium. How his frown became a scowl for _just_ a moment as the photo of the man popped up on the screen. 

This one was different. 

Uri Azoulai didn’t fit with the others. 

He wasn’t entirely sure as to _what_ it could _possibly_ be, but he knew that there was bound to have been some sort of problem between the two. 

Something _big_ going by the fact that Azoulai, for whatever reason, brought more of a reaction out of the younger spy than with the man who’d _buried him alive_.

“We crossed paths in Mosul. He was on a solo op following a lead to some arms deals that were getting a little too powerful in Mossad’s eyes. Selling to the enemy and all that. I was on a joint recon op. We weren’t supposed to meet, but I had info he needed and he had info he was willing to spare. And with how tits up my op went, I needed to grab as much intel as I could before getting out. Turned out we were both chasing SCORPIA. Or so we thought.” 

“Of course…” Tom muttered, wincing at the new slide.

“As I said, he made it back alive. But _someone_ sometime between the boat he was stowing away on being less than 3 kilometers out at sea to docking in an Israeli port, threw a bucket of acid on his face. Got his eyes and his throat all the way into his vocal cords.”

The bubbling of the skin hadn’t gone down yet in the photo. And the hole in the man’s neck was much too gruesome to look at, but Tom just couldn’t fully look away.

Especially the eyes. 

The milky whiteness of where the pupil _should_ have been but _wasn’t_. Cold and staring out into what was probably terrifying darkness. 

“As abhorrent as this is, it’s not SCORPIA’s MO. If they were close enough to throw a bucket of acid on him, they were close enough to kill him and dump him overboard but they let him make it back alive.”

He paused again, staring a moment longer at the photo. 

“Now, we don’t know much about the initiative. It’s new, _very_ new. Most of what’s known is classified. But there’s been a situation and SO has deemed it necessary for you all to be aware. As of 03:00 five days ago, Friday, December sixth, Captain Nathaniel Rutledge of the Special Reconnaissance Regiment has gone MIA from the Stirling Lines Garrison in Herefordshire. Looking over his past ops and other connected ops of his troop, it’s suspected that his disappearance is connected with this-” he gestured to the screen behind him. 

“Rutledge noted in his debrief a week prior that his platoon had found a few leftover boxes of something labeled _Ibixgon_ . Whoever was hiding out in the building they stormed didn’t have enough time to destroy all of it. And it just so happens that Azoulai mentioned _Ibixgon_ as well, in his own debrief almost four months ago.” 

He took a moment to let the words sink in. 

Things were cutting _very_ close to home. Stirling Lines meant Herefordshire, where their own HQ lay. How many times had they had friendly training with the SRR? And the fact that someone could just up and kidnap a _captain_ in his own garrison. _Jesus_ . They were dealing with some _seriously_ talented group…

Tom’s eyes wandered around, taking in the expressions of grim solemnity. 

People were going missing. 

People being highly trained special force operatives. It was spine chilling, to say the least. 

He paused, thoughts all but freezing in place as his wandering eyes made it back to the front, just in time to see Alex’s brow furrow just a moment as he checked his watch again, giving it a few taps before catching Tom’s eye with a questioning quirk of his brow. 

And for a moment, Tom actually felt sorry, shaking his head before averting his eyes. Like _he_ was the one who had done something odd. 

Freaking _spies_. 

Too freaking good at this emotional mental manipulation. 

_He_ was the one who caught _Alex_ acting weird. Not the other way around, goddamn it! 

But by the time he realized, Alex was speaking again, closing down the PowerPoint. 

“That’s it for today. And just as a reminder, you lot have a late-night excursion. If you have any questions, you can ask Eagle back there.”

Eagle waved with a smile. 

“Otherwise, you all are dismissed.”

Ben didn’t move. And as far as Tom could see, neither had the assassin, who Wolf and Snake had all but avoided on their way out, so he remained seated as well.

“Rutledge was found dead yesterday.” Ben started, moving slowly towards the front. 

Gregorovich remained in his seat, surveying the situation that was unfolding. 

In all honesty, the man was interested. 

“They haven’t called off the night excursion.” the blond answered, scrubbing a hand down his face, trying to scrub away some of the exhaustion. 

“And?”

“ _And_ , I wasn’t about to tell them that they found some captain’s mutilated _corpse_ out where they’re about to take a midnight stroll, _Ben_. And for your information, Matthews has ordered me to keep my mouth shut about it until further notice.”

“Matthews? When?” 

“He gave me the order when he gave me the file I gave you.” 

They stood a moment, staring in silent conversation before Alex broke it, grabbing the laptop off of the podium before making his way down the stage to stand face to face with the older spy. 

“If you have a problem with that, I suggest you go talk to Matthews yourself. If not, we’ll just have to keep our eyes open a little wider.

Be a little more _prepared_ this time around.” 

* * *

“Fox!”

“Eagle! Where you been?”

“Stopped by the instructor’s hut for some files. Gregorovich wants to talk to you. Told me to tell you to come over around one. Said it was important but he’d need to tell you face to face. You too, Cub.”

Alex nodded, stabbing his fork through a _particularly_ thoroughly steamed carrot, blinking owlishly at the tray in front of him. 

“Anyway-” his stare lingered a moment longer on the blond in vague concern. 

“-Wolf, you’ll be leading back up for tonight’s excursion. In the new humvees, mind you. _Very_ nice.” Wolf chuckled appreciatively. 

“Snake, you and Coyote are on med patrol, and I’ll be the *defensive guard for this one.” 

“Defensive guard? For a domestic excursion?” Wolf queried, fork halfway to his mouth. 

Eagle shrugged. 

“That’s what I asked. Couldn’t get a straight answer.” 

“Interesting…” 

“Yeah. I know, right? We’ll be leaving at midnight, but Sarge wants everyone down at the parade ground by eleven-thirty.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Jason Bourne reference!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter is filler

“You’ve got to sleep at least a little, Alex. I know you’re tired! I saw you stabbing carrots earlier. You’re losing your edge.” 

Alex bristled, gripping the rubber ball _just_ a little harder than necessary before tossing it at the wooden bedpost in front of him. 

_Thwack_.

“I’m _fine_ , _mother_.”

“He’s been sitting there doing that for the past hour. Hitting the same spot. Hasn’t missed it yet. It’s actually a little creepy.” 

Tom answered, squirming around under his thick military issue blanket so that he was facing the older spy, hoodie scrunched around his face, tied together in a loopy bow. 

“Traitor…” the blond muttered darkly, only half-serious. Or so Tom hoped. 

_Thwack._

“Hey! I never said anything about your general health. I’m better than that.” 

“Hyperfocus is a symptom of the painkillers St. Doms prescribed you, you know. So I know you’re not entirely sober at the moment-”

“See. You’ve given him everything he needs.” Alex shot back bemusedly, flipping the sheet was reading over. 

_Thwack._

“As a _civilian_ , I’d like to plead neutrality.” 

“You know what? I’m actually kind of surprised he hasn’t been approached by at least MI5. Do you have any thoughts on possibly enlisting?” Ben commented to Alex who snorted, not looking up from the report on his lap. 

_Thwack._

“They probably have enough tabs on him that he’d get flagged just enlisting for any _regular_ military.” 

_Thwack._

“And he’d probably be considered too much of a liability at this point. He’s too close to me. Knows too much history.” 

“True.”

“A liability...?” 

“Or a security risk. It depends on who you ask.”

“A security risk...?!”

Ben nodded. 

“It’s nothing bad-you know what I mean kid genius.” he veered exasperatedly, catching Alex’s judgemental look out of the corner of his eye. 

_Thwack._

“Look. He’s a civilian. A civilian who’s signed multiple versions of the OSA and who’s probably been given _some_ sort of low low-level rank. For safety at least because. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a civilian. So he’s on a _completely_ different standard.”

He turned his attention back to Tom who looked even more concerned than he’d already been.

_Thwack._

“As I was saying, it’s nothing bad. At least as long as you stick to what was in the OSA and keep your eyes and ears out of anywhere they shouldn’t be. It’s just mainly a security precaution.”

“And if I- hypothetically speaking of course- happen upon something I shouldn’t. Hear something I shouldn’t have heard or seen something I shouldn’t have seen. Something confidential, let’s just say. Something _big_. What happens then?” 

“Depends,” Alex answered vaguely, tucking the sheet he’d been reading under the sizable stack in the file on his lap. 

“I’d like to go with option 5; breaking the OSA will result in demotion with mandatory community service.” 

*“You really got to bring up old trauma like that......?” 

_Thwack._

“It was too perfect not to,” Ben smirked. 

“Anywho. Back to your question, Harris. Alex wasn’t wrong. It does depend on how severe the break was. But you would be looking at anywhere from two to fourteen years and a lifelong ‘security risk’ mark in your files. It’s not a fun place to be.” 

“And if the intel you managed to get to has a high enough classification, or if you start getting problematic near people with a high enough clearance, they’ll make you disappear,” Alex added, shrugging nonchalantly.

_Thwack._

“Wait, is that a real thing? The ‘they’ll make you disappear’. Do they really actually do that?” 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Ben shrugged. 

“The moral of the story is, it’s fine to be considered a security threat so as long as you don’t do anything stupid. Otherwise, you’ll be at the mercy of SO and they don’t play around with those sorts of things.” 

_Thwack._

“But back to the topic at hand-yeah you little manipulative shit, I _didn’t_ forget.” 

Alex groaned, rolling his eyes in irritation. 

“Then you’d remember I said that I was just _fine_.” 

“It’s an all-night excursion, Alex!” 

“I’m more than aware of that. I just can’t sleep right now.”

“Why not?” 

“You know, I _really_ wish I knew the answer to that as well.” 

“You took your meds, right? That’s why you were so hazy?” 

_Thwack._

“Maybe…”

“Honestly, Alex. Those meds combined with last night’s chaos should have knocked you out by now.” 

“I _know_. But I just can’t, so here we are having this frankly unnecessary conversation right now.”

Alex flipped the file closed, getting up from where he’d been sitting up against his bed. 

“We’ve got an hour left, and I’ve been trailing the area where Rutledge was found. The trainees will be avoiding it by a good kilometer. The problem is, only the only way to stay as close to them as possible is through that area. We’d have to track from downhill at least 3 kilometers away, and that’s too far.”

Ben paused before capitulating. 

Sighing in exasperation at the blond’s skill of conversation manipulation. 

“But I’ve got a bad feeling about getting so close to that area.” 

“Then we stick as close to the edge as we can. Wolf and some others are going to be following behind in a humvee, so we could do a front and right side guard. And if anything happens, one of use will be able to secure the left side.” 

He paused.. 

“And it’s supposed to start raining in an hour or so, so if we’re lucky, we’ll have some sound cover.”

As if things were shitty enough...

“So please, for the love of _god_. Get some rest. You won’t be getting any more once we start.”

“See. This is why I would probably _never_ ever enlist. Insane. On my _life_.” Tom piped up, still lolled out comfortably on the bed. 

Alex was almost a little jealous. 

“Oh. And you-” Ben turned to Tom who flinched distrustingly, eyeing the man suspiciously. 

“The Sarge said you can stay here in your hut. Just come by the mess hall for dinner so he can confirm that you’re ok.” 

“Sounds good.” Tom threw a thumbs up. 

“ _Just_ the hut and the mess hall. Nowhere else.” 

“Like I said. I’m a civilian. I’m not about to wander around a special forces training base. I’m not _that_ chaotic.” 

“Good. Because if you’re caught, it’ll be considered trespassing onto a military intelligence base. Which is _highly_ illegal. Like breaking the OSA illegal.” 

Tom nodded with a grimace at the thinly veiled threat. 

“Good. Oh, and Alex?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Gregorovitch wanted me to give this to you. Said to tell you to check it over.” he handed over the small box he’d been holding under his arm. 

“Oh.” he gave the box a shake. 

“He’d said you’d know what to do with it.” 

“I do. And I’m surprised he’s managed to find this…” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a Gemini.” Alex half-smiled, opening the top, running a finger down its cold glossy black exterior. 

“SCORPIA issue. A completely custom-made handgun. It’s fingerprint sensitive, like the one Smithers made me. But this one is made so you can shoot twists and screw on long-range rifle extensions.” 

“SCORPIA gave you a gun and you’re keeping it?” 

Alex shrugged. 

“It’s a good gun. I lost it in Moscow during a mission. Didn’t think I’d see it again.”

“Interesting… Well. I’m going to grab some food before we leave. I’ll see you at six.” 

“Right.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Currently plotting a one-shot about this!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter playlist:  
> grandson: Blood//Water  
> Unlike Pluto: Yes Offense  
> The Neighborhood: Wires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to make up for the short filler the last chapter!

“Line one connects you and Daniels.” Yassen handed both spies a pair of jet black ear coms. 

“Line two will direct to me. And line three will direct you to back up.” 

“I thought this was a stealth track.” Ben paused fiddling with his earpiece.

“It is a precaution. In the case there are no emergencies, no one should know the excursion is being tracked.” 

“Got it." Ben nodded. 

Yassen wasted no time in tossing the black duffle towards Ben.

"One standard issue rifle, silencer, and a standard-issue handgun. The ammunition is in the bag." Ben squatted, balanced on the balls of his feet as he methodically checked through the weapons kit, loading the guns with practiced dexterity. 

"Rifle and silencer. I trust you’ve checked over your gun." He tossed another smaller bag toward Alex. 

The blond followed suit, checking and rechecking before loading up. 

"I am sure I do not have to tell either of you to be aware of your surroundings. Even more so with this excursion." He swept a cold gaze over Alex who fought a sudden wave of chill down his spine. 

"There will be twenty-seven targets to cover this time. No room for mistakes. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." 

Ben grunted an affirmative. 

"Good. They will be moving out shortly. Get some space." 

And with one coms check, they ran toward the line of trees, black on blackhead to toe getting further and further into the darkness with each step until the darkness of the forest ate them up.

* * *

"Alright. Listen up! There are six total checkpoints to make within this excursion. You _must_ check in to all six. Failure to do so will have you binned. If you are hurt, do _not_ hesitate to call for the med squad. Failure to report any serious injuries such as, but not limited to: breaks, sprains, head/neck/back injuries, injuries causing considerable blood loss, and weapons-related injuries, will have you binned. And lastly, if you see anything suspicious, do _not_ I repeat, do _not_ hesitate to call back up and let them know." 

Yes, sir-s echoed around the parade ground as all twenty-seven trainees stood at attention, decked out in stealth camo, rucksacks at their feet, staring straight ahead unreactive as the rain began to pick up making the cold air even colder. 

"Supplies at the ready." 

In the chaos of shuffled movements, they hauled nearly forty kilos of supplies onto their back, wiggling and adjusting to what would be twenty-four kilometers of fan dance hell. All within the time span of a little more than four hours. 

"Any last-minute questions? Famous last words?" Eagle smirked, gently teasing. 

No one so much as blinked, getting progressively soaked in cold water in cold air wanting to just get it over with. 

"In that case, on your mark. Get set. Go!”

They took off without another word. 

“Good luck ya poor bastards!" was the last thing that echoed before they were gone.

* * *

"Wha' th-fuu-fuck-" 

Tom groaned, picking his head up from the rattling window in dazed confusion and a headache of a whole new proportion. He winced, blinked owlishly, staring out into what just looked like endless darkness covered by the racket of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. 

From his window to the front window and then to the driver's window only to minor blackout, breathing rapidly as he scrambled as far away as he could from the man in the driver seat. 

"No no no _no_! Where am I?!

"You were needed." 

“You couldn’t just _ask_ ?! Like a _normal_ person?”

“Would you have come willingly?” Tom could have sworn there had been a flicker of amusement on the assassin's face.

What exactly it was that he found so humorous? Tom couldn’t say. But it was unsettling, to say the least.

“Probably not, but it’s the fucking thought that counts. Freaking spies…” Tom hissed, falling heavily back against the seat, arms crossed with a groggy scowl on his face. 

“I am far from what most would consider a _spy_.” 

“I know that.” Tom snapped back. 

“I know you’re an assassin. You work for-or used to work for SCORPIA, the terrorist organization that _single-handedly_ fucked up my entire sleeping schedule year twelve. _Bastards_ …” he grumbled. 

“I know you’re supposed to have been dead. But you’re not. But then again, shit like that seems to happen a lot in Alex’s line of work.” 

Yassen quirked a brow, keeping his eyes on the darkness in front of him. 

“You’re really good at what you do, and what you do involves torture, I’m sure. Wouldn’t be surprised. But you’ve also taught Alex too, at some point. Right? The whole branding thing he was talking about the first lecture. You were his mentor.”

“Is that a question?”

Tom deliberated, chewing at his lip as he stared out the window into the pitch-black surroundings. 

“Why isn’t he dead?” it came out and in all honesty, Tom almost wished he could take it back. The word vomit of his rapidly cycling mind.

But he needed to know. 

The one question his brain just _wouldn’t_ let go of out of the hundreds that had formed in the absolute chaos of the last couple days.

“They tried to assassinate him four-five years ago. They wouldn’t miss the second time around. But he was SCORPIA for at least four months _and_ he tried to run. _Again_. If they’re as deadly as he’s been lecturing, how is he still alive?” 

“There are some waters better left unagitated. Tom Harris. You may come to realize just how precarious the line between life and death can be.”

“Is that a threat…?” 

Yassen shrugged. 

“A suggestion.” 

“Unbelievable. It’s like talking to a fucking grandmaster turtle…” Tom rolled his eyes, huffing an irritated breath. 

“He’s a tortoise.”

Tom froze, turning _ever_ so slowly in complete shock. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Not a turtle. Oogway is a tortoise. Which makes you, Sifu, I presume.”

“Get _out_ . How-actually, never mind. I don’t want to know. I-the fact that _you_ of all people know-can _say_ that…” he felt another wave of chills down his spine, only to be washed quickly away as they came to a stop. 

“What are-where are we?” his eyes darted to the minimally lit dash of the darkened vehicle. 

_02:57._

Yassen wasted no time, reaching back to grab something, setting a pair of military issue socks and boots on Tom’s sweatpants clad lap. 

Tom, for what he was worth, skipped over the useless questions, unrolling and donning the socks and the boots before lacing them up tightly.

“This-” the man held up a neon orange stick.

“That’s a-a flare pen launcher thing. Used it in camping..”

Yassen nodded, handing it over to Tom who gingerly accepted. 

“And these.” he handed over a small ziplock bag of what Tom could only guess were flares. He gave them a distracted look over before shoving them into the pocket of his hoodie. 

Tom flinched at the sudden _very_ sharp blade that appeared _uncomfortably_ close to his face. 

“Press the blade and handle together to shut. Flick the jutting area near the blade ring to open.” Yassen demonstrated with practiced ease. 

Tom shoved it into his pocket as well, turning so he was staring back straight ahead, mentally willing himself to keep calm. 

Alone in a car being given supplies by an assassin at three in the morning on a freezing rainy December in the middle of nowhere was not something he could reassure himself was alright in _any_ way. It was not alright. 

He was not alright. 

The whole _situation_ was _bound_ to be not alright. He didn’t have to be a spy or enlisted to know that. 

“Why am I here?” he asked, decently proud that he kept his voice leveled, 

“You were needed.” 

“What could I _possibly_ help you-”

“By Matthews.” 

Tom’s blood ran cold at the mention of Alex’s boss. 

That _psychopath_ …

“So I advise you to listen _very_ carefully.” 

Tom’s eyes widened, heart picking up pace as the adrenaline kicked in.

“You will get out of the car, shut the door and walk eight paces forward, back to the door.” 

Tom nodded stiffly. 

“Count three-hundred seconds. That makes five minutes, Harris. No less. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.” he gritted out.

“And then you are going to launch a flare.” 

“It’s raining…”

“It will not be a problem.”

He didn’t argue, choosing to sit in silence instead. 

“Count to three hundred and launch another. Repeat this until you launch them all.” 

“And then?”

“And then you wait for instructions. Now get out.” 

Tom hesitated, taking one last deep breath, shooting the man a look of visible hatred before opening the door and stepping out into the freezing rain.

* * *

“What the _hell_ was that?!” Wolf leaned in closer, squinting out of the rainy windshield. 

_“Back up. Back up. This is M121434 calling in from checkpoint five. Over.”_

The radio crackled to life. 

“Copy. M121434. This is K711360 calling in from backup. What seems to be the problem? Over.” 

_“There was an unidentified flare gone up some five kilometers from checkpoint 5. Over.”_

“Roger that, M121434. Flare has been noted. Someone from backup will go locate. Await further information. Over.” 

“ _Wilco. Over._ ” 

“I reckon that’s at _least_ gonna take fifteen minutes with how fast the valley is filling up. Can’t just go straight through this time. You gotta do a roundabout _here-_ ” Eagle adjusted the pen flashlight and pointed to a spot almost 2 kilometers back. 

“-and then get up the hill and _then_ go the extra 2 kilometers. And that’s _uphill_.” he tapped the target area.

“ _Shit_!” Wolf hissed, unbuckling himself. 

“There’s another one!” Snake exclaimed, leaning forward, eyes on the small red burst of light before it fizzled out.

“Eagle. Take the wheel.” Wolf grabbed his rifle from on top of the dash, throwing his helmet on haphazardly before opening the door. 

He promptly slammed it shut as something sailed by with a blood-chilling whistle, skid-bouncing across the hood before exploding midair dangerously close to the right side mirror with a sharp _bang,_ stunning them all momentarily with a flash of bright light, then silence.

The silence broke as all of hell broke loose in an unmistakable shower of artillery that hit the entire left side of the humvee sending everyone reaching for helmets and rifles. 

And just as abruptly as it had started, it ended, all signs of foul play washed away by the downpour and thunder. 

They'd needed to move. _Quickly._

Wolf didn't hesitate, stomping on the accelerator easily switching to tactical maneuvers. 

They were going to get out unharmed, so help him. Whoever it was toying with them would get their due process. He'd make sure of that with his own two hands. 

* * *

Another flare lit the air.

_“Back up. Back up. This is M121434 calling in from checkpoint five. Over.”_

“Roger, M121434. This is backup K711360. Over.” he coughed, gripping the radio.

“ _We have sights and tail on the possible hostile moving through Taf Fechan Forest area less than 2 kilometers from your current location. We will proceed with active fire as needed. Over.”_

“Roger that. Over.” 

Two kilometers meant that whoever it was that was running towards them had decided _not_ to run towards the trainees, which Wolf was _supremely_ thankful for. But it also meant that they had a possible hostile getting closer to them, meaning that they couldn’t go any closer to the trainees or the checkpoint. Meaning that the only option they had was to reverse and leave the group open to rear attack or stay where they were, and _neither_ option gave Wolf any sort of reassurance. 

The situation was _shit,_ to say the least.

“ _BACKUP. BACKUP. THIS IS M121434. COME IN-”_

“This is back up. Over.” 

“ _We’ve got reports of ACTIVE FIRE no more than four meters from a group near the front. Requesting back up immediately. Over.”_

Wolf rushed to buckle up, stomping on the accelerator hissing curses. 

“That doesn’t make sense. If the possible hostile was two kilometers from us, _we’re_ six kilometers behind the very back of the group. _Eight_ from the front. They’d have to have run six kilometers in less than three minutes. There’s no way-” Snake argued from the back. 

“Checkpoint five. Come in, Checkpoint five. This is K711360. Over.”

There was a momentary pause. 

“K711360, this is Checkpoint five. Over.” 

“Checkpoint five, what is the current status of the potential hostile? Over.” 

“Another flare just went up.

There was another, longer pause. 

“Backup. We have a man down. I repeat, man down.” 

“Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck!”_ Wolf hissed, angrily slamming the radio against the wheel. 

“Checkpoint five. What’s the status?” Snake pointedly took the radio out of Wolf’s hand. 

“Unconscious but breathing. No sign of head-related injury. His helmet is still on. Over.” 

“Roger that. Hang on. We’re almost there. Over.” 

* * *

“We’ve got a problem.”

“I’m going to need a little more clarification, Ben.” 

“I found the flares.” 

Alex almost all but tripped straight across the gnarled root under his feet at the sudden announcement. 

“ _Just_ the flares?”

“No one’s here.” 

“ _Fuck_!” Alex hissed, chancing a glance around him.

The group had diverted to the right instead of continuing on straight as they would, veering off towards the stream that ran along the Taf Fechan near the outskirts of the trees, probably dangerously swollen from the downpour. 

And backup would be arriving soon, meaning that there would be someone else trailing him as well. Trailing him with guns if his hunch was right. They probably already labeled him as a possible hostile. 

The fact that he had taken out the first guy didn’t really help his case. 

But informing them of his and Daniel’s added presence would more than likely be known to the shooter, and the chances of catching them would plummet significantly. Something he wasn’t about to let happen. 

Not now. Not like this.

Not on the _first_ assignment. 

Yassen would be furious.

“I’m following them in.” 

* * *

Tom cursed for the thousandth time, half in irritation and a half in wired panic as his growingly numb fingers fumbled with the last flare, unable to set it off properly. 

He was tired and cold and drenched to the bone, but most importantly, he was scared. 

There was no need to lie. 

He was absolutely, mind-numbingly _terrified_.

There he was, a nineteen-year-old _civilian_ with minimal knowledge of safety skills, shooting flares in the middle of a fucking _special forces_ training excursion by himself with only a knife with a blade a little bigger than six centimeters, roughly the size of the palm of his hand. Against a gunfight, he’d be dead in seconds. 

But he couldn’t just walk right through the excursion to turn himself in. And he didn’t know where Gregorovich was, which was problematic because he was positive the man was omnipresent and could most _definitely_ pop up in seconds and slash his throat or something equally movie villainesque. 

The man was just scary like that. 

So when he heard a shrill whistle coming from _extremely_ close behind, it was understandable that he almost had a heart attack then and there, dropping the flare and launcher altogether.

It took a few seconds of paranoid looking around before he realized where the noise was coming from. 

Nearly choked himself by how fast and aggressively he latched on to his hood to pull it to the front, fishing out whatever it was that was emitting the unsettling noise. 

How had he _not_ felt that…?

It was about as big as a blackberry, with a thick square of metal attached. 

He clicked the call button, hesitating a moment before bringing it to his ear. 

“H-hello?”

“ _Fifteen paces to your right. Go_.” 

He wasted no time, turning on his heels to his right, counting his pages internally. 

“ _Follow the hill down. Watch your footing. The rocks are slippery_.” 

Tom took a breath, blood rushing as he realized just how far up he actually was. 

He cursed as he nearly lost his footing, latching on to the wild roots growing around from under the rocks. 

_Breathe. It’s gonna be fine._ He repeated in his head as he continued his climb down. 

Step by step by step until he was on flat ground again.

_“Do you see the two boulders in the middle of the stream?”_

“Yes.” he gritted out, wiping excess rain from his eyes.

“ _Run_.” 

And before he could say anything else, the line went dead.

* * *

“Then get back over here as soon as you-”

Oh. 

_Oh shit…_

_“Alex? Alex? Come in. Al-”_

He heard his hearing tunnel as Ben and the surrounding sound of rain and thunder fell away leaving nothing but ringing in his ears. 

This isn’t real. This _can’t_ be real.

He was about to genuinely lose his mind. 

“Alex. I’m-I’m so sorry, mate. I didn’t know-” 

Tom fumbled, gazing back with wide pleading eyes looking properly terrified, gripping on to a familiar little gadget. 

But all Alex could focus on was the little red dot dancing around the edge of his best friend’s right brow. 

The sudden _thud_ of a humvee’s door slamming brought all of the sounds back at once, sending his heart racing, gaze tearing sudden to his right, just in time to see an _eerily_ familiar scene play out as the slender canister sailed pass him, landing almost silently before embedded in the mushy terrain mere centimeters from where Eagle and Coyote.

He was running even before his brain caught up. 

_Five_

No. Not again. 

_Four_

This wasn’t what he wanted. They weren’t who needed saving.

_Three_

He almost stumbled in his haste to bend down and grab the offending object, appearing out of seemingly nowhere behind the two who whirled around, hands already on their trigger primed to shoot. 

_Two_

He dug his heels in deep, throwing it as hard and as far as he could.

_One._

He heard the gunshot before he went down, failing to drag the other two down with him to cover for an explosion that never came. 

At least, not the explosion he had been expecting as the characteristic white-hot heatwaves and shrapnel were replaced with an air-ripping noise followed by a blinding flash, and then nothing. 

Alex just laid there, frozen in momentary shock as uncomfortable realization washed over him.

He’d fucked up _again._

* * *

The ringing in his ears was what disappeared first, replaced by the woosh of rushing of blood in his ears. 

Reality was setting in like the nauseating waves in his gut, but he wasn’t in any condition to accept it.

Accept the fact that he had, within less than a handful of seconds, unconsciously abandoned his best friend. Put him in danger and left him there, as _if_ Tom stood any chance against whoever it was conducting this nightmare situation. 

Of _course_ he wouldn’t. As smart as he was and how well adjusted to chaos he managed to be, there was a limit. 

This was the _real_ world of spies and assassins and gruesome deaths. And unlike the movies, no matter how skilled they happen to be, and how much potential they had, there would be no magical civilian to spy transformation. 

It was nothing more than an overly glorified rose colored dream. Unrealistic and dangerous in this line of work. 

And now he got to experience just how _painfully_ true it all was, because Tom was gone. 

_Dead._

For forever. And he didn’t even get to say goodbye.

 _'Get up.'_ It was sharp, even in his head, devoid of any mercy poking through the grief and shock that was slowly starting to set in.

Always so demanding. Bringing out the scope of his own cruelty against him. 

' _Get up and finish what you started.'_

Alex couldn't argue any sort of excuse. In retrospect, the majority of responsibility actually _did_ lay heavily on his shoulders.

He'd been at it for _years_.

He should have known better. 

Done better. Even before getting ordered back to Beacon. 

Far back _months_ ago where he’d really screwed up. The domino effect from back then up until now really shouldn’t have been so surprising. 

It was bound to happen, and he had no one else to blame but himself.

It was his fault the chaos of an op had failed so badly to begin with. He had been recklessly humane when he should have been merciless and cruel. 

And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he knew he'd been selfish for not cutting ties, keeping Tom close. Truly and honestly thinking that he could really keep Tom safe forever, as if that would make everything okay.

‘ _There are still four left. Get them out.’_

A part of him almost didn’t comply, fighting against the resolution in his head. Hoping he’d just _give in_ for once. 

But training always trumped feelings. It was what had kept him alive for so long, and what he would continue to do. As much as he absolutely hated himself for it. 

He rolled over slowly, pushing past the jelly feeling in his arms to sit up. 

Snake launched out of the humvee, med kit in hand rushing to Alex’s side. 

“Hey- _hey_. Calm down. You’re gonna hur-” the spy shoved Eagles' steadying hand off of his arm, all but ignoring the sudden shaky haze in his head as he pushed himself back on his feet, wobbling dangerously from the whiplash as he spun toward the trees. 

He needed to check with his own two eyes. To make sure it wasn’t what happened before.

And then he’d get back to work. 

He just needed- 

_Shit…_

A familiar numbness took a hold of his face as ice cold tendrils of dread wound themself around his lungs, squeezing painfully leaching the very air from them.

“ _No_ . no. no no no. _No!_ ” he muttered frantically, scrubbing shaky hands through his hair., attention criss crossing around, jolting here and there in panicked pieces of a circle, _clearly_ shaken by something. What exactly it was? None of them could even _begin_ to guess. 

“Cub-” 

“ _Don’t_ touch me.” Snake flinched, wrenching his hand away, putting his hands up in a show of surrender. 

_‘Get it together. Focus!’_

The sudden aggression was one thing. But the feverish look in the spy’s wide eyes was what had Snake’s heart careening down to his gut.

There was no better way to explain it. He genuinely looked... unhinged. Setting everybody on edge. 

“ _Back up. Back up. This is Delta Blue. Do you read? Over.”_

Alex froze, snapping out of the haze of wild panic, realization hitting him in the gut. He’d just dropped off out of nowhere in the middle of communication, leaving Fox at risk with no back up. Of _course_ the man would be worried... 

Wolf hastily pulled the radio from it’s clip on his belt, 

“”Delta Blue, this is K711360. Over.”

 _“We’ve got a problem.”_ the man on the other side dropped the protocols, jumping straight to the point.

“Who is this?” Wolf mirrored sharply, glancing up at Alex, mentally begging whatever merciful diety was watching to please, _please_ not let this be connected to SO. There was just bound to be _oceans_ of paperwork and-

“Fox.” 

_Damn it._ Wolf grimaced, thankfully able to hold in a sorely wanted disgruntled sigh, refocusing immediately. 

“What the _hell_ is going on, Fox? Where even _are_ you?”

_“Somewhere between checkpoint five and six. But that’s not important right now!”_

Wolf’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Frown deepening as he was suddenly _all_ too aware of the implications of the spy’s presence. 

They weren’t safe. 

“ _Cub’s MIA. He just dropped off somewhere in the forest. I can’t reach him.”_

The pieces fell into place, realization dawning. And just like that, Alex was suddenly on the receiving end of four apprehensive stares. 

“He’s been found.” Wolf replied shortly, not taking his eyes off the blond. 

_“By who?”_

“Well, technically _he_ found _us_.”

Alex tapped his earpiece.

“I ran into a problem in the forest that required... _undivided attention_.” it was devoid of the aggression and panic that had been unleashed only moments prior. He needed to hold on for just a little longer. He was already under scrutiny from 6. He didn’t need Ben’s overbearing concern either.

They didn’t need anymore ammo against him than they already had. 

_“I’m gonna let it go for now. But you better have a detailed fucking explaination, Rider. None of this cloak and dagger bull.”_

“Duly noted.” he muttered dryly.” 

The radio in Wolf’s hand crackled back to life.

_“They’ve terminated the excursion when the live fire happened. They’re waiting for transportation from base to arrive. ”_

“So what happens now?” 

_“Everyone needs to get back to base. They’ll need time to piece things together before they do anything else. But whatever it was that happened with the flares and live fire, it wasn’t SO, and most definitely wasn’t SAS.”_

Wolf’s brow scrunched in bewilderment. There was no way that SO was uninvolved. The whole situation practically _reeked_ of 6’s secrecy.

_“Look. I’ll try to explain back at base. Just, be careful, alright? This whole situation feels off-kilter, so keep your eyes peeled.. “_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yassen Gregorovich is an enigma in and of himself.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspo:  
> Grandson - Overdose  
> Billie Eilish - Bury a Friend  
> Sickick - Infected

Alex didn’t remember closing his eyes, and he absolutely didn’t remember arriving back to base. 

So it was understandably disconcerting to find himself sitting across from a _particularly vexed_ assassin with no recollection of how or why he had ended up in the instructor’s hut, to begin with. 

And if he was being _totally_ honest, half of him almost believed that none of it was real. 

That what he was seeing was yet another vivid hallucination.

He saw Ben staring out of the corner of his eye

And between the two and their silent scrutiny, he felt his skin crawl as he felt prickles of memory emotion threatening to creep out of the deep subconscious hole he'd buried them in. 

He swallowed thickly, using the last of his mental energy to push them deeper into the dark abyss of his subconscious.

Contrary to popular belief, Alex actually _was_ aware that his way of coping wasn't healthy. In any sense of the word. 

It just _wasn't_ sustainable. 

One day it would all cave in and he'd be left drowning in the sea of decaying memories and emotions all at once, and in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to save himself.

But that would be something to worry about at a later time. 

For now, he needed to figure out how the _hell_ he was going to explain himself this time.

And while he had at least _somewhat_ of faith he could get past the older spy, Gregorovich was a different story altogether. 

The man had seen past him at his _best_. It would be almost _insulting_ to try anything in his current condition. 

But he couldn’t very well just confess _everything_ … 

And _certainly_ not to Gregorovich of all people. 

Because he’d assured the man that he was better. That he was fit for combat, and that what had happened that time in Three’s vivisection lab wouldn’t happen again. Which was why he _hadn’t_ been savagely ripped up and fed to the sharks. 

Why _Three_ had gotten to carry out a second punishment on top of Yassen’s own.

He felt goosebumps rise on his arms, cold sweat starting to form at his nape in sudden dread as he realized that he had _no_ idea what was happening. The man was _obviously_ waiting for a reply, but to _what_ Alex couldn’t remember. 

Everything before the point he’d realized where he was one big blackout. 

“Tell me, Alexander. What time do you think it is?” 

He could feel the familiar bite of cold water lapping at his ankles. So, _so_ evocatively lifelike. He almost doubted himself a moment, almost glancing down to be sure. 

It was one of many _brutally_ sadistic punishments saved for more serious offenses.

He’d found out soon enough that the swift and severe punishments exacted by the man worked surprisingly well. 

Far more so than anything 6 had thrown at him. 

There was a certain level of control that could only be obtained through fear. And deep down, ingrained in some subconscious part of his mind was an absolute fear of the man. 

Because Yassen Gregorovich was a paragon of the art of fear. 

And he was staring straight through the lies forming in Alex’s mind.

And Alex, for what he was worth, already knew he was doomed. 

“05:00 hours.” he kept his tone neutral. Answering as he would in any debrief.

Yassen continued his impassive observation, letting Alex stew in his own anxiety for an _uncomfortably_ long minute before nodding in acknowledgment. 

“How long have you been here?. 

“Half an hour. Give or take a few minutes.” 

Yassen leaned back in his seat, arms crossed as he stared Alex down with barely checked ire. 

Alex could practically _feel_ the ice-cold water filling his lungs. Again and again and _again_ until he was positive he’d end up drowning from the inside. 

Just like before. 

Pinned in place by Yassen’s wrathful gaze, suddenly aware of just how _badly_ he must have fucked up this time around.

_‘Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe, goddamn it!’_

“Look at me, Alexander.” 

Alex obeyed, meeting Yassen’s gaze straight on, thoughts halting at the unexpected mild-almost _assuring_ tone so incongruous with the man he knew. 

“This naive recklessness ends _now_.” 

He couldn’t look away. 

“Or I will burn it out of you. Do you understand?” 

Alex nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.”

He turned to Ben who couldn’t help but tense at the sudden movement of attention. 

“Agent Daniels. The time, please.” 

“It’s-uh- 23:13.” he glanced over just in time to see apprehension flit across Alex’s face as he stared holes into space.

“We started this meeting at 21:00, so we’ve been here for a little over two hours now.”

“When did K-unit arrive back on base?”

“About 05:15."

Alex took a shaky breath. He knew _exactly_ where his conversation was headed…

He’d lost more than _seventeen_ hours. 

More than half a day, gone. Swallowed whole by his _own_ mind.

It was understandably problematic, not to mention personally daunting.

“Tell me, Alex. How is Casimir?”

Alex blanched as a sudden flood of visceral memories flooded his mind. Shaky hands gripped and ungripped into white-knuckled fists as he felt the familiar uncomfortable sensation of cold sweat beading at his nape.

And at that moment, things started to connect leaving Ben with an awful feeling that he was right all along. 

“It’s DID, isn’t it…?” Ben scooted forward in his chair towards the assassin. 

“That’s why he’s been so spacy. And losing time. Like it’s him sometimes and not him sometimes. That’s why there were so many parts blank in the debrief transcript. Because he genuinely can’t remember-”

“Remember _what_?”

Ben turned slowly, finding him face to face with a familiar face. 

But there was just something so...wrong. So different. 

Everything from his posture to his confident yet cynical tone of speech; was only a few degrees from the Alex he knew. Like _this_ Alex had taken the most characteristic things of the younger spy and kicked them up a notch. 

Same, but weirdly inexplicably _different_.

“It was noted in your debrief that there were certain parts of the mission-”

“In Russia.”

“Huh?”

“The mission in Russia. That’s what you're talking about, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Do you-um-do _you_ remember?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why-”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to say anything.”

“Why not?” Ben demanded.

“Well, _first of all_ , we’re not exactly the best of friends.” he tapped his temple.

“And if I _did_ fill in the blanks, SO would have hell trying to cover everything up. There’s only so much Tulip can do, you know. We’d have to disappear, and uh-Shura isn’t exactly ‘supportive’ of that plan.” he shrugged.

“He’d fight tooth and nail and get distracted and then we’d _both_ die. And _not_ dying is something we can both agree on.”

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing at his temples trying to absorb the new, very _very_ bizarre chunk of information.

“Oh! One more thing!”

He sat up straight.

“When you decide to tell him about Tom, I suggest you go slow. He’s still debating whether or not it actually happened. Which is fair since he’s been seeing a lot of non-existent things lately. Been playing a weird little game of ‘is it real or not’. It’s really getting to him. So just take it slow. Alright?” 

He hauled himself to his feet, stretching a yawn.

“I’ll be around, I guess.” 

He walked out of the door without a moment’s hesitation, closing it quietly behind.

* * *

“Are you-is he just going to-” Ben gestured haltingly, turning to the door, utterly _baffled_ from what had just transpired in front of his two very own eyes. 

“He won’t get far.”

“What the absolute _hell_ is going on?!” the chair creaked in protest against the sudden movement.

“He was _fine_ when he came back! None of this _‘Split’_ mess. Not until he got put with _you_.” he jabbed an angry finger at the man who blinked back in cold indifference.

“I’m not going to ask how you got so friendly with SO so fast, but let’s not forget that there was a DoA posted on _your_ head not even _six months_ ago, yeah? You may have Matthews on your side for whatever-fucking reason you do, but that does _not_ mean you’ve garnered any sort of trust from anyone else.” Ben spat venomously.

“I certainly hope not. That would be very disappointing.” Yassen replied neutrally.

“Believe it or not, Agent Daniels. I _do_ hold a certain amount of respect for Special Operations. He cut through the spy’s retort.

“But then again, You are not quite SO, are you? At least, not anymore. But not _entirely_ SIS either.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“I’ve seen your file-” he pulled the uppermost drawer open and reached inside without breaking eye contact. 

Ben paused for half a beat when he realized just what it was the man had so casually tossed towards him.

“A considerable file with an outstanding ops list, really..” 

He didn’t miss the _infuriating_ ghost of a smirk that flickered across the man’s face, hitting nerves with unnerving precision. 

“But the _actual_ list was _far_ more impressive.”

“I don’t know how terrorist organizations work, but as excessive as 6 makes itself out to be, it’s not ‘ _hidden versions’_ excessive Gregorovich. They have better things to be doing. Sorry to burst that bubble.” he scoffed. 

Ben followed the glance down to the file, almost challenging the man to look as the tense silence ballooned. 

He huffed, rolling his eyes as he snatched the file, holding it up with a mocking eye roll.

“It’s a standard 6 file. Brief rank and medical. Some post-ops-” he shrugged. 

“How’d you end up nabbing it from the Sergeant’s hut anyway?” 

“I didn’t.” 

Ben stared back in obvious disbelief. 

“I' _m_ the one that brought this file over four days ago, Gregorovich. I _personally_ handed it over to the Sergeant. You’re gonna have to try better.” 

Yassen smirked. 

“Beyond doubt?” 

Ben stilled, regarding the assassin with sudden intrigue. 

“Yes.” 

He tossed the file back onto the table, flicking it open.

“See. It’s-” 

The words died in his mouth as he caught sight of the glossy white of the identification photo clipped harmlessly to the upper left corner 

It was him. 

That was for sure. 

Chestnut brown locs almost long enough to curl like they naturally did when _not_ cropped like he’d kept them most of the time. Bright green eyes focused forward, wide and alert, deceptively youthful against the dark circles under his eyes. 

It was the shirt collar that brought everything together, leaving him reeling. 

Dark grey, _not_ the military green he remembered the photo being last.

He’d last updated his ID earlier the year before after returning from Bahrain in a short term assist mission with K-unit. 

He hadn’t been required to change anything else. At least not to his memory. 

Neither Jones nor Matthews had called him in, and before four days ago, he had no need to view his file let alone touch it. 

But the photo… 

It couldn’t have been more than two months old. Of _that_ he was positive. 

Because, if he remembered correctly, getting the contacts in had been a right _nightmare_. Something Smithers had apologized _endlessly_ for. But there was nothing that could be done. He needed those documents. 

That meant that the photo was taken exactly a week before he’d shipped off to the SAS-SFSG base in Samarra, _blissfully_ unaware of the extent of chaos that was awaiting..

But why the sudden change of photos? It wasn’t _extreme_ , but it was by no means what he normally looked like, killing the purpose of an identifying photo. 

**Benjamin Lee Daniels**

_Ben_

_Fox*_

_Böhm, Johannes_

~~_LaCoure, Bernard_ ~~

~~_Lawson-Bloggs, James_ ~~

~~_Noble, Robert_ ~~

~~_Santos, Gabriel_ ~~

_Jesus Christ._

The list went on, _alphabetically_ for fuck’s sake! 

He flipped through the pages, zeroing in on dates and locations that were for _sure_ not meant to exist nevermind be _printed._

Page after page after page broken up by the odd, mostly gruesome photo here and there.

“What is this?” he hissed, slamming the file shut, all trace of diplomatic discretion burning away leaving behind cold unflinching austerity.

“Payment.” 

“From _?_ ”

“Take a guess, Agent Daniels.” Yassen’s frigid gaze didn’t waver one bit. 

“ _Bullshit_.” Ben spat back, hands tightening into white-knuckled fists at his side. 

“6 doesn’t negotiate like that.”

“MI6, as a whole, couldn’t even if they wanted to. That point is non-negotiable in all fields of Special Operations in your country.” he dismissed the comment with a derisive wave. 

“But the higher-ups have a penchant for operating outside of set parameters, don’t they?” 

The spy didn’t respond, glowering in stormy silence. 

“So in the scope of _years_ worth of questionable actions, it is not _completely_ unthinkable, is it?” 

There was an uncomfortable pause.

“Alright. Yes. _Fine._ Let’s say that Matthews wasn’t above negotiating with _terrorists_ -” he hissed, capitulating to the _appalling_ game of ‘what if’. 

“Why trade _my_ file? I’m not _that_ important.” 

“I would beg to differ,” he retorted. “SIS has a habit of running in the shadows. Keeping secrets and all of that. Alexander is at the very top of Matthew’s list at the moment. And he has been for months now. _You_ just happen to be _very_ closely connected.

“What are you getting at?” Ben grit out, coming to fray in his patience.

Yassen leaned forward, leveling the spy with an almost amused expression. 

“Do you really think that Alex’s condition is recent?” 

Ben stiffened, thrown by the innocuous tone.

“He was _fine_ when he got back,” he repeated tersely.

Yassen scoffed. 

“Was he? Was he _really_?”

“Yes! He’s been fine! Matthews _and_ Jones both let him check himself out of the hospital. He’s been attending the briefs like he’s been ordered to. He’s just been losing a bit of time here and there. But he’s tired and stressed. It’s to be _expected_.” 

“Rider hasn’t been ‘fine’ in months. Matthews knows that, and so does Jones. Why do you think they were so ruthless this time? So _hostile?_ ” 

Ben froze, hit with a sudden chilling feeling of Deja Vous. 

_“_ _There’s a reason Matthews is getting hostile. And for good reason”..._

“He’s done something, hasn’t he...?”

Ben inhaled sharply, recalling the conversation in his head. 

_“Because I messed up really bad this time around.”_

"But he’s got some sort of intel. And it’s important-” he stared pointedly down at his hands, suddenly _very_ interested in the small scars and scratches. “But he can’t remember it all.” 

Yassen nodded. 

“They requested a trade two months ago in Samarra. Your file for a window of five hours.”

“They sent a joint SAS-SRR team. I remember."

“And they _failed_ because Matthews got cocky. Four total casualties. Three from SRR and one from the SAS.“ 

“They got bombed.” 

“Officially, yes.”

“Unofficially?” 

“Unofficially, they sent in unknown faces to grab the hostage, and the hostage panicked, and then ran.” 

Ben felt his blood run cold. 

“Did you know it wouldn’t work...?” 

Yassen shrugged. 

“It was a possibility.”

“But nothing else happened in Samarra. I got away.”

" _Barely_."

"So you're saying-"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first time I ever had an episode, it lasted for 8 hours and was very V E R Y trippy.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short fill!
> 
> An FYI:  
> \- I've gone back through and merged some chapters, but none of the storyline got changed. (No need to go back and re-read) Sorry for any confusion!

"They needed absolute proof that you were ready. That you were _stable_ enough to continue." 

"And they couldn't use the _normal_ protocol for that? The tests that are _specifically_ there to figure that sort of thing out? Pulling in a civilian was the only way?! To make me believe that my best friend was _murdered_?!" 

"You weren't in the right place for the tests. They wanted real situational proof. "

" _They_ cleared me for active service." Alex spat. 

"And you put me on that excursion. _You_ armed me, for fuck's sake! Was that _not_ in good faith?!" 

"Your gun was jammed. Irrevocably. You did not notice. It was one of _many_ flags." 

Alex reeled. Yassen took advantage of the sudden loss of words. 

"Have you stopped to consider _why_ Matthews has elected to overlook so many points of concern? Your subpart condition. The forgetfulness. The _dissociation_." he snarled. 

"Did you _really_ think that you could hide it all if you tried hard enough? That you could continue to be so _viciously_ reckless without consequence? Are you unaware of the extent of danger we are in or are you genuinely choosing to be so foolish?"

"I'm not _hiding_ anything _._ " Alex snapped back, flames rekindled white-hot in his eyes. 

"I was dissociating _months_ before this. You knew."

"And I let you live because you said it was over. That you and Three had fixed it. _Permanently_." 

"He _did_. I was fine after-"

"Obviously not!" 

"I was fine until I got to this bloody hellscape, alright?! It just _happened_. I don't know why!" 

"And the hallucinations?" 

Gregorovich knew he'd hit a nerve. 

" _You_ brought that up, Alex. Your own dissociative self brought that up. Do you not understand how _pressing_ that is?!". he snarled, rage boiling up. 

"How many times must I tell you, carelessness kills in this line of work?! Especially as you continue to _insist_ on sentimentality." 

Alex flinched. 

"Matthews may have decided to turn a blind eye on what happened in Samarra and Krasnoyarsk, but there is a _limit_. And once you cross it, he will not be able to protect you any further, and that is _not_ a place you want to be in. No one is _that_ valuable, Alexander. _No one_. Do you understand?" 

The double threat didn't go unnoticed. 

"Yes." 

"Good. We've wasted enough time as it is." he nearly missed the vial thrown at him. 

"An epi-pen?" Alex's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Modified for methylphenidate."

He tensed, exhaustion suddenly washing over him in squalling waves as he was brought to his knees, face to face with the one issue he just _couldn't_ ignore. 

"That's the last of it all."

Alex tapped it unconsciously against his palm, feeling the liquid slosh around. All 300 milligrams of it, feeling the _uncomfortably_ familiar burn in his veins. 

"We start training today. In an hour. At the assault course. Get the base test out of the way before lunch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will say this, I personally don't think that Yassen is a heartless monster, at least not all the way. Do with that what you will!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspo:  
> What’s up Danger  
> Glitch Mob Remix - Seven Nation Army  
> Hippie Sabotage - Options

"Thirty-one point sixteen." Yassen divulged in mild disdain, mouth set in a grim line as he reset the stopwatch.

Alex doubled over gulping down breaths, kneading the agonizing stitch burning just over his right kidney. 

He wasn't in peak condition. That much was obvious. He wasn't fooling anyone, not even himself. 

"Eight minutes slower than your last record." 

" _Eight minutes_?!" he straightened himself back up, pushing spartanly past the painful twinges with a look of shocked disbelief. 

"You realize now where you stand?" 

Alex let out a disgruntled grunt of affirmation, painfully aware of just how bloody difficult it had been to get to where he was at his best. How much more difficult it would be to get back.

He snapped out of his morose thoughts as he caught sight of an incoming group, jogging in step towards the track. 

"Count off ones and twos!" Puma barked from the front. The group complied, immediately sounding off loud and clear until everyone had a number. 

"Ones, you lot are with me. Burpees. You know the drill." he instructed, looking a little _too_ amused at the groans of despair. 

"Twos, you're with me around the track. It's run until you drop. No cutting corners. No set laps. Just keep going." Wolf ordered bringing up the back. 

Of _course,_ they'd send the biggest and meanest. It was just icing on top of what was bound to be a _miserable_ time. 

He jogged to a stop next to the two. 

"There are always a few mental ones who think they can just keep going full sprint like I ever said anything about not pacing." Wolf cringed watching the group steadily separate. 

"I assume there is an actual end goal?" 

He tore his attention away from the track, turning it over to the assassin.

"Mostly endurance. Kind of a rough baseline as well for the 8km runs they'll be doing." 

"On what scale?" 

"The last time I checked, the cut off was right around twenty-eight to twenty-nine minutes." 

"I got it," Alex muttered under his breath.

"Huh?"

"You will need the bag for the course." Yassen abruptly changed the topic, gesturing for the spy to grab the black duffle by his side. 

"This will take some time." 

"At the course?" Wolf glanced over to the course a few meters from where they stood. 

"Cause if so, take your time. We're not doing the assault course today." 

Alex grabbed the considerably weighty bag, bringing the strap over his shoulder and across his chest, tightening it as needed, preparing himself mentally for what was going to be a terrible _terrible_ time if his memory served him right. 

"I should probably warn you," he turned back for a moment. 

_"_ If this is what I think this is, you're probably going to hear shots fired. It's either a BB or a paintball gun most of the time."

"I thought you were running the assault course?" 

"It's modified. Just keep that in mind" and with that, he jogged off leaving Wolf to return to ~~shouting at~~ encouraging the poor trainees. 

* * *

The course was bigger than he'd remembered. 

Or at least, it felt that way after the fifth run-through.

But he knew the end was nowhere near. 

So he didn't hesitate, dropping from the last high bar hurdle to jog back to the starting point. 

"Start with the rifle." Yassen gave the signal, sending the spy sprinting forward, maneuvering around the bag while jumping through the tires. 

Speed was important while he had both hands free, and he took advantage of it while he could, bringing the most of it together before having to reposition it in the bag to get through the wall climb. 

All he needed to do was screw on the silencer and load a clip and he would be over the most difficult part. 

_Silencer and clip._

_Silencer and_ -he fumbled dropping heavily from the top of the wall sending the clip flying forward. 

Shit. Shit. _shit_!

He recovered quickly but the damage was done. It would definitely be noted. 

The assassin was undoubtedly watching his every move like the formidable mentor he was and had been. 

But he wasn't the only one. 

A quick glance showed Puma and Wolf engaged in what looked to be a conversation of considerable confusion as they watched him shove the clip into one of his pockets before jumping up to the monkey bars, rushing through. He dismounted with ease, grabbing the clip from his pocket to load it in one swift motion, putting a burst of speed, rifle in one hand while the other reached in the half-zipped duffle for the silencer. 

He used the speed to jump up atop the balance beam putting one foot in front of the other as he mounted the silencer, smirking in brief victory as he held the finished rifle. 

They hadn't expected him to dive either, momentarily at a parallel midair with the ground, sniper rifle in hand before landing on the ball of his feet using the momentum to push him forward while giving himself time to readjust his hold.

And all of a sudden he was under the wire, crawling with considerable speed rifle in hand, popping out of the other side in an immediate sprint. He vaulted over the last three hurdles only to throw himself back down on the ground again, flicking the rifle's stand rail out before setting it down a finger on the trigger and safety ready to shoot. 

"The time was good."

Alex breathed a quiet sigh of relief, getting back on his feet as he took it apart throwing the pieces back into the bag. 

"You were lucky with the fumble. The zipper is a part of the bag. Be aware of it." 

"Yes, sir." 

"But you won't be needing the bag this time around." Yassen twisted reaching for the waist holster under his jacket, pulling out a familiar gun. 

He held it out by the barrel. 

"The remainder of your automotive armory has been moved to the instructor's hut."

Alex hesitated, brows furrowing in noted confusion. 

"Your car has been flagged by GCHQ."

"GC-MI5..?"

"SIS refused to elaborate. It is an open case. They are remaining neutral."

"Was no one going to tell me?" he balked. 

"It is a case about your car. They have not yet found it necessary to open an investigation on you. And even if they did, you are in a secure monitored area and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. So all you need to do for now is focus on your training, and the job you were given." 

Yassen pushed the gun into his hands. 

"Focus."


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspo:  
> 21 Pilots - Morph  
> Chet Faker - Drop the Game  
> Flume - Left Alone

The group came to an abrupt halt, immediately on guard at the sudden shots fired, and in seconds Wolf was off, jogging over to where Alex stood, back to the course checking over the gun in his hands. 

He looked up as the man neared, tilting his head in hesitant curiosity at the serious expression. 

“I gave you a heads up.” he drawled humorlessly, turning his attention back to the gun. 

“Just wanted to know if there’s going to be more, or if that’s it.” Wolf craned his neck looking down to where the assassin was, shooting off a few more shots as he neared the end. 

“Is that a paintball gun as well then?” turning his attention back to the spy, nodding to the gun.

“No.” sunlight glinted off of the sleek black ceramic grip of the compact handgun as Alex turned it over in his hands.

“This one’s real.” 

“The rifle too?” 

“Standard issue L96.” 

“And it was loaded?”

“Not the  _ whole  _ time.” 

“Is it an SIS thing? What, just getting through the assault course not action packed enough for you?” Wolf scoffed, ribbing in sarcastic banter. 

Alex snorted, letting his arms drop, holding the gun loosely at his side. 

“Something like that.” he muttered amusedly.

“But to answer your question-” Alex took a quick glance behind him, picking up on his mentor’s quiet footsteps on the cold hard dirt. 

“There’s going to be more  _ actual  _ live fire.” 

“Empty a clip and reload.” Yassen ordered, cutting the conversation short, replacing the paintball pistol into the empty holster on his thigh, giving the signal to start before darting back to get a vantage point of the entire course, following the spy with hawk-eyed focus. 

Alex flew forward reaching into the side pocket on the left to grab a clip, reloading and locking with surprising ease. 

Much more so than he had with the rifle, quickly readjusting his grip to accommodate the rope. 

He climbed swiftly, dropping lightly on the other side, firing off two successive shots, landing within the two bright orange spots; one at the base of the monkey bars and the other halfway up on the end post. 

He didn’t hesitate biting down on the top of the chamber, freeing up his hands to swing through the bars, kip-swinging off of the last bar. 

He grabbed his gun mid-air, tuck and landing, firing off another six shots in a zigzag in front of him before twisting to shoot the three shots that were hidden on the opposite side of the monkey bar posts, still moving forward. 

He dropped into a crouch skidding at level with the balance beam, hitting another target toward the front bottom of the beam’s first leg. 

The momentum allowed him to jump up, using his free hand to vault him onto the beam itself. 

He rushed forward, dismounting with half a turn to land backwards into a squat low enough to put himself in a vantage point to get the two targets on the end leg before springing up again to rotate back forward. 

With thirteen down he had four more to go.

He sniped one of the pegs of the crawl tarp.

_ Three _ . 

He caught two additional targets on the back of the pegs near his feet, forcing him to roll over and shoot from his back. 

_ One _ . 

He crawled out, chancing a glance back, spotting the last target close to the end more than likely to be overlooked as he crawled over. 

_ Sneaky bugger.  _

He made the shot, emptying the magazine mid run toward the last hurdles, reloading, locking, and shooting at the tricky spot on the bottom edge of the hurdle, jumping it with considerable fluidity. 

He fired off another three, side by side on the back of the trunk shaped hurdle, vaulting the other two to land into a roll. 

He flicked the safety on as he stood back up, panting, gulping down air. 

“You missed two.” 

Alex huffed in disbelief looking genuinely affronted. 

“How…?!” 

“On the ground in the gap between the first wall. The other one is in front of you right now.” he gestured, mouth set thin, to the wooden border running around the course. And lo and behold, there it was, an obnoxiously bright orange target half buried behind a patch of wild grass. 

Alex grimaced in chagrin. 

He couldn’t argue. It was definitely visible enough for him to have noticed. 

He  _ should  _ have noticed. 

“Fair enough…” 

“Estimatedly, your time has not changed. Not too bad but you can do better." 

Alex nodded.

Yassen Gregorovich seldom ever complimented anyone, this was the closest to praise he'd get from the man and in all honesty, he never really knew how to react. 

"Oi-Cub!" 

He heard Wolf’s heavy footfalls coming up behind him.

“Yeah?” 

“It’s Fox.” he held the two-way out. 

“Urgent. It’s secure.” 

Alex gingerly took the radio, pushing down the sudden wave of unease in his gut. 

“Ben?” he clicked off, waiting for a response. 

“Alex, I swear to god-please,  _ please-”  _ Ben emphasized sharply 

“-for the love of all that is good, tell me you haven’t tampered with your car’s GPS.” 

The tone was uncharacteristically agitated, and it had the younger spy on edge as the adrenaline began to flood. 

“What are you ta-” 

“Just answer the  _ damn question _ ! Did you or did you not mess with your GPS?!”

“Not recent- _ Oh _ …”

“ _ Oh _ ?!” Ben hissed, cursing under his breath sounding  _ genuinely  _ distressed. 

“‘Oh’ as in how long ago?!” 

“After Paris.”

“Paris? As in  _ two years ago  _ Paris...?”

He didn’t bother to give a response. He’d already said enough. Ben knew. 

“ _ Christ _ -Alex-” the older spy took a sharp breath. 

“MI5’s vice head, Garret Feaux, he’s been MIA for the past five days.”

He felt his mouth go dry. 

Things were about to get very  _ very  _ serious very quickly. He could already feel it.

“They found him dredged up under Albert Bridge near Battersea Park.”

“Oh…?” 

“A lot of the cameras weren’t working, but some grunt at GCHQ managed to find footage of Feaux walking out of a chips shop getting jumped five days ago. Can’t make out the suspect but you can see the smallest bit of the back of the car he got shoved in.” 

“And they think it’s mine.” 

“They saw the car pass through an electric gate that required a key card. It’s been tampered with as well. They found what made it malfunction. So they put an alert on any similar occurrences two days ago and Beacons came up flagged late last night. That’s why they took your car.” 

“I haven’t touched anything except for the GPS. I didn’t mess with any other tech.” he replied sharply.

“Yeah, well they found an EMP prototype from Smithers’ lab not just in the hidden compartment in your dash, but inside of an added compartment. One that Smithers denied building in.” 

He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as Ben’s words slowly registered. 

“ _ And  _ a passport. One that  _ wasn’t  _ issued by 6. It’s not registered  _ anywhere _ in  _ any  _ list. Not here or abroad.”

“Why would I even  _ want  _ to kill Feaux? I’ve got  _ nothing  _ against 5. And I’ve only ever met the guy like twice? And that was in passing at the intel summit.”

There was a stretched pause before Ben answered, working to reign in the emotion. To keep things neutral. 

“Thirteen days ago, when you were declared found, Feaux skipped over the Head-Baghat, and went straight to 6’s internal investigations and submitted a formal investigatory request saying that he had some sort of evidence against a senior agent. As far as we know, he has submitted some sort of evidence but it’s been bumped up to a full lock down. Not even Matthews is allowed to see it until they finish their investigation.” 

Alex swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath waiting for Ben to continue.

“As of an hour ago, your status has been indefinitely suspended and you’ve been put under Mobilis Protocol. So for the time being, don’t say anything. Don’t  _ do  _ anything. Just keep your head down and stay put, alright? I’m with the Sergeant right now, but I’ve been called back to HQ so I’ve got to leave for now but I’ll try to keep you updated. Yeah?” 

Alex grunted an affirmative before clicking off. 

Breathe.

_ Breathe. _

_ “Fuck!" _


	24. Chapter 24

Breathe.

Do  _ not  _ freak out.

_ Do not freak out _ .

_ Keep it together, goddamn it!  _

The ground was moving. 

Only faintly but enough to register, ever so faintly setting him off his core. He felt it flick at his axis.

Like little tremors before an earthquake, clashing against the unsettlingly familiar numbness that was starting to spread across his face and down his neck, clamping viscerally around his lungs. 

This wasn’t happening. 

This  _ couldn’t  _ be happening. 

He’d only been back for all of  _ twelve _ days! Technically conscious for only ten. 

And with the already strained relationship he had with his  _ own  _ bosses at 6, he couldn’t even be sure he had  _ any  _ real side of support at all. 

Ben had specifically stated it himself; Alex had been suspended and was under the Mobilis Protocol. 

He’d been all but  _ blacklisted _ . 

In the middle of a special forces camp with no status and with god knows what sort of enemies still after him. 

Framed for  _ murder.  _

The murder of the  _ deputy head  _ of  _ MI-fucking-5  _ none-the-less. 

He could practically  _ feel  _ the cracks begin to splinter in the already unsteadiness of his mind. This, and the already added stress of the post trauma he’d all but ignored mixed with the tailspin from the pending withdrawal that was bound to happen sooner than later... 

It was almost  _ savagely  _ cruel.

Almost.

Almost because somewhere deep  _ deep  _ down in the frighteningly and dark crevices of his mind, he could feel the strange tendrils of something he couldn’t  _ quite  _ fully place. 

A strange and uncomfortable feeling. 

One he had been unconsciously working to bury. 

But they’d come for him, vicious and unyielding when he found himself able to drift off. 

Something that felt disturbingly close to what he could only guess was...guilt? 

An excruciating point somewhere between remorseful contrition and panic inducing  _ terror  _ that left him jolting awake in waves of nausea and cold sweat.

But those feelings were starting to crawl out, untethered to the whims of his unconscious. 

The stress of it all was getting to him, and just as Jones had forewarned him all those years back, he’d reached a point where he could no longer just ignore it. 

There was no room left to ‘bury it’. Especially as ‘it’ had come so  _ violently  _ alive. 

But he just didn’t understand. 

He wasn’t even sure what ‘it’ was! There was no awareness. No concrete-no-not even semi-concrete thoughts. As far as Alex could tell, all he had to go on were ‘feelings’. 

So he felt ‘terrified’ and ‘contrite’. But he had no idea as to  _ why _ .

And in a way, that was worse. 

So much worse. 

He couldn’t fix things when he didn’t have a clue what was fucking broken. 

All he could do was to stress and to  _ suffer _ .

Not exactly like he had for the past four months, but it wasn’t altogether  _ unfamiliar _ . 

Like a nerve that had been fired for so long, there was a numbness but it wasn’t comfortable. 

There was no reprieve like the numbness that came off of the countless bitter pills he’d been prescribed that took the edge off of the ever constant physical pain, even sometimes blurring the mental, just a little. 

But never really enough. 

And he was stuck. 

Literally and figuratively. 

Suspension meant that his status, not only in 6, but also the SAS and whatever other authorization he had was gone. The sergeant would be alerted, he’d probably already had been when Beacons was flagged. 

And if he remembered correctly, a certain authorization and status was required to be on camp grounds.

It  _ was  _ a special forces camp after all. 

And if the Mobilis Protocol had already been activated, it meant that his details would be spread in 5’s country-wide net of entrances and exits. Every sort of port in or out of the UK would have been flagged, and that included military ones as well. 

_ Especially  _ military ports. 

He would be deemed a flight risk and a public danger, and depending on the severity of whatever put him under the protocol to begin with, his well being would be  _ entirely  _ up to MI5 to decide. 

Wolf warily accepted the radio the spy held out for him, muttering a quiet ‘thanks’.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. 

Something  _ now _ . At that moment in time. 

Something was wrong. Something about Alex’s calm-no… _ Blank  _ expression. 

It was the way he held himself. 

Not stiff and stressed as it had been during the call. 

It was more...angry. 

Angry and agile. Radiating with a sort of dangerous prowess. 

A little like Gregorovich had when he had first arrived on base almost a week before. 

But there was a distinct difference. 

Gregorovich’s aura of danger was earned. It was sure and bone deep, a finely honed power that just came to those with experience. 

Not too unlike the soldiers that had overseen his moving into the secure base. 

Opposite sides but dangerous nonetheless. 

Alex was different. 

He was young and lacked the experience that only time could give, but he was dangerous. That much was more than evident. 

But his aura wasn’t the consistent and crystalline like Gregorovich. 

It was unstable and reactive, almost panicked. Like a cornered animal’s drive to fight for their lives. 

Wolf had seen enough recruits who’d tried to get through with that sort of power. He knew that it wouldn’t work. That in the state he was in, the spy would likely end up hurting himself in the process of whatever it was that was going to happen. 

“Cub-” he reached out, only to have his hand quickly nudged away, his own fingers just  _ barely  _ missing the cuff of Alex’s own jacket as he continued forward, all but ignoring the sudden call. 

Wolf opened his mouth to protest, turning sharply to face the assassin only to clamp his mouth shut as the man shook his head, silently ordering Wolf to stop, sharp gaze darting from the spy back to the soldier. 

“What now?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. Something about it not completely befitting the situation at hand. 

But Alex didn’t seem to notice. 

He shrugged, pausing momentarily, turning to the assassin, mouth set in a grim line. 

“I think it’s time Matthews and I had a chat. Before things get serious,”

It was a strangely unsettling answer, Wolf wasn’t going to lie. 

The nonchalant tone didn’t make matters any better. 

But he didn’t get to think too long on in because within the span of the spy’s answer and the successive shrug, Gregorovich sprang into action, latching on to Alex’s right arm, squeezing  _ just  _ so at a nerve no doubt, causing him to drop the gun in his hands. 

The assassin wasted no time in kicking the pistol back to Wolf who grabbed it, immediately unloading it, shoving the remaining magazine in his pocket before flicking the safety on, gripping onto it tightly as he watched the blonde try to take Gregorovich on, and  _ very  _ quickly go down. 

Literally. 

The assassin showed no mercy, grabbing Alex’s left wrist mid punch, latching on to the watch face before yanking and twisting in one brutal motion. He saw the pain spark through, rendering him immobile for just a moment, but the moment was all Gregorovich needed to maneuver himself where he needed to be, grabbing the spy into a vicious chokehold.

He didn’t even budge from the struggle, keeping on until he was holding on to deadweight. 

He put the spy down gently on the cold ground, taking a deep breath before straightening up, looking Wolf dead in the eyes. 

“Let Daniels know Rider has been compromised. He needs to know before he leaves.”


	25. Chapter 25

“What is going  _ on _ with you?!”

“I’m sure 5 wouldn't mind sharing if you ask nicely. Please and thank you and all that-”

“Is this a joke to you, Alex?! Honest to  _ fucking  _ god. Look at me-” Ben lurched forward, smacking his hand down on the cold steel table, staring the spy right in the eye.

“What is this?”

“This?” Alex quirked a brow. 

“The car. The passport. Gregorovich-”

“What about him?” 

“Why’s Yassen Gregorovich, the ex-SCORPIA assassin and known terrorist having to bring you in, hmm? Why am I sitting in this holding cell questioning you instead of half way to 6, where I  _ should  _ be?” 

“ _ That _ just seems like a personal problem to me-” the blond gave a cheeky shrug. 

“And as for Mr. known terrorist, I’m sure you could just ask him as well. I’m not a mind reader, you know. I don’t just  _ magically  _ know why people do what they do,  _ Ben _ .” he spat, readjusting in his seat, rattling the shackles on the table top. 

“Well I can’t ask him now, can I? Cause he’s not here anymore.”

“Oh?”

“He’s been called back to 6.”

“Oh, how convenient. You want to go, he’s already there. It just works out.” the caustic edge to the smart mouthed retort was not missed.

And neither was the barely covered enmity that was slowly but surely starting to make itself known.. 

This was  _ not  _ the Alex that Ben knew. 

That he was sure of. 

This  _ person _ , the disgruntled one sitting glaring daggers at him, shooting off smart-ass responses, he was someone else.

Almost like a doppelganger of a sorts. But not. 

This wasn’t like the bizarre case from the Point Blanc mission with the unbelievable doppelganger issue. 

No. 

This was just as strange, but in a more understandable way. 

He’d heard about dissociative identity disorder before. Read about it in his own time. 

Read that trauma and stress was a major component. Something so near and dear to their line of work. 

He’d heard of agents who couldn’t handle the stress. The ones that had so said, ‘lost it’. He heard of cases even before he joined MI6. The military, and later on, the SAS and special forces, it wasn’t too different from the stress of SIS. Stress and traumatic situations. But they’d learned how to properly deal with them. 

Even basic military had debriefs and post mission evaluations that needed to be passed. 

And while every now and then, there were those who happened to fall through the gaps, he knew that it was pretty unlikely that one could get to such a point without having set off any sort of red flags or alarms. 

Alex was an official agent now, afterall. 

_ And  _ a fully legal adult at that. 

There were protocols in place that he, like every other agent, was required to follow. 

And it wasn't like Jones and Matthews hadn't been vigilant. 

_ Especially  _ Jones. 

She'd been the one who's set the boundaries once Alex agreed to officially sign on. She'd been the one who had him started with a full psychological baseline and eval. Even Matthews had agreed, standing adamantly beside what Jones had outlined in Alex's newest requirements of full emancipation back at sixteen and a half. 

The therapy sessions to start. The regular,  _ weekly  _ sessions when he was available for them. 

And then there were the in depth debriefings post mission and appropriate time off to rest and recoup.

Normalcy of a sorts, developed over the last three or so years.

_ Three fucking years _ .

So how could they have gone  _ so  _ far off based and missed  _ this _ …?

When had it even begun? 

_ How _ ? 

Too many questions he just didn't have answers for, and in all honesty, it really _ , really  _ bothered him.

He had never seen Alex so far out of his norm, and it was more than a little unsettling, that was for sure.

But with the shallow information Gregorovich had given him during their Impromptu one on one after the baffling post assignment debrief with the excursion, he couldn't say he was  _ completely  _ lost in terms of where they stood in the quagmire of the situation they were in. 

The sudden acute stress had triggered Alex's latest dissociative episode. Or that's what he assumed. 

And if he were assuming correctly, the person handcuffed and chained to the steel table in the middle of one of the SAS interrogation huts was probably the alter he'd met back during the debrief, Casimir. Or something like that. 

Casimir. 

It didn't ring any bells. He was sure he'd never heard the name before. 

Or was it a code name? 

Gregorovich hadn't said. 

But what he  _ had  _ told the spy was that Casimir's appearance was probably not for the best and that it would be recommended to keep an eye out. 

For  _ what _ , he didn't specify, but Ben had noted it all the same. 

Keep an eye out. 

Coming from  _ Gregorovich  _ of all people, the threat had to be significant. 

But staring back at the snappy teen seated across from him, things were just… not really connecting. 

_ Agent  _ Alex Rider was dangerous by all accounts. 

A senior SIS agent. He'd  _ officially  _ passed SAS selection not too long ago. A near expert trained in instinctive shooting amongst other controversial skills. 

Agent Rider was dangerous, but it was all familiar to Ben. 

He'd worked with  _ Rider  _ for years. They'd trained together. Worked together. Saved each other's ass countless times in countless countries over. 

Casimir on the other hand. 

Casimir was new, and that made things precarious. And in  _ this  _ situation, precarious automatically meant dangerous and the situation was dangerous enough as it was.

Ben wasn't going to be in a situation to be able to watch Alex's back if it wasn't Alex to begin with. 

And with Gregorovich- 

_ Jesus _ . That was just a whole different mess he'd have to figure out after  _ this _ .

"Casimir-"

"Ohoho. Cheeky, aren't you." His tone was unmistakably scornful, glower offset by a wry smirk.

"I'm right, aren't I? So  _ you're  _ Casimir?"

"At this point, who's to say?" He shrugged dispassionately with a caustic little eye roll. 

"It's important."

The blond wasn't impressed. 

"Gregorovich told me about you, you know." 

Casimir snorted, making a weak attempt to corral his chortles. He managed to bring himself together enough to return Ben's serious gaze with his own of thinly veiled amusement before wiping the humor away, face suddenly scarily impassive. 

"I'm sure he did." It sounded a bit teasing, oddly exasperated. Like the older spy was missing something. 

Something important. 

Like Ben just _wasn't_ understanding whatever it was that was _just so_ _obvious_. 

"About time." He shrugged.

"What does  _ that  _ mean?" Ben's brows furrowed in confusion. 

"Exactly what I said, Daniels. Did I stutter?" He sassed.

"I mean that it took him long enough. I figured it would be on the top of the list of things he's let you lot know." He shrugged, grimacing.

"From the agreement, anyway." 

"The agreement?" 

"If you need to ask, you definitely don't need to know." 

Ben took a moment to collect his flailing thoughts. 

It was weird. 

bizarre. 

It wasn't like Alex  _ wasn't  _ a salty bastard at times. He'd been around long enough to know that the blond could be straight up  _ insufferable _ at times.

But he had his limits. 

This? 

This was the same but different. 

On the same line as Alex's own personality but so  _ so  _ far beyond the blond's normal. 

Like Alex on steroids. 

Or whatever else it was that had gotten him to this point. 

"He doesn't really seem to trust you too much." 

Casimir scoffed, leveling Ben with a derisive stare. 

"You do know the man's an assassin, yeah? He doesn't trust anyone." 

"But especially you." 

He shrugged, seemingly unbothered. 

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Do you trust me?" He leaned forward, elbows on the table propping his chin up in his hands. 

He gave a small smile, looking  _ uncomfortably  _ innocuous for a moment. 

"Why does it matter?" Ben narrowed his eyes in wary bemusement, leaning back in his seat to survey the odd sight. 

"I mean, I get why the man doesn't trust me. But I'd expect you'd at least trust me a  _ little  _ bit." He weedled, shrugging back into his own seat. 

"Amuse me." Ben replied flatly, gesturing for the blond to explain. 

"I mean, technically speaking, I'm the result of the poor bastard not being able to deal with one measly assignment…" 

He rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation.

"I don't get it." The spy bit back.

" _ Jesus Christ- _ it's you, you _fucking_ prat." He snarked. 

"You were the assignment." 

Ben froze in wide eyes disbelief. 

"I would say that saving your  _ miserable  _ little life warrants a  _ little  _ fucking trust. Wouldn't you say so,  _ Agent  _ Daniels?


	26. Chapter 26

"I can't say I blame him though, Rider. He's-what can I say...uh-he's a genuinely  _ good  _ person. I mean, is there blood on his hands?-" 

Ben sucked in a sharp breath.

"-yeah. More than a little, honestly. But his heart's in the right place."

The blond nodded, taking a moment of silent contemplation before his composure cracked. 

The choke backed chortle dissolved into unrestrained peels of laughter. 

" _ Jesus.  _ Do people really purposefully say things like that? That sounded so much worse than it already was in my head." He sobered up, wiping away the lingering tears of mirth with a sardonic little smirk.

"Anyway. Like I was saying. The poor bastard's just couldn't deal with it in the end."

"With what…?"

"Emotions. Guilt. _ Sentiment- _ ." He ticked off on his fingers, hitting a sour note on the last. 

"Like a human being?" Ben gritted out.

"Like someone who could afford to care." Casimir tossed right back.

"And he couldn't. And he knew he couldn't but he did anyway and that just fucked with  _ everything _ ." 

"So what? So he made a mistake and magicked you up as an escape?"

"Don't get it twisted. He made a  _ choice  _ and he couldn't handle it. He  _ 'magicked'  _ me as a means to an end. An end that needed to be met at all costs." 

"End being…?"

"Something you don't need to know about. Just be happy you're alive and go on with your day." 

"You and I know bloody well that that just can't happen.  _ Especially  _ now. So just save us all the time and  _ talk. _ " The spy hissed. 

They were running out of time. 

"No. I don't think I will." 

"There's absolutely _ no _ reason for this to be as difficult as you're making it! You're not even  _ real _ . You've got nothing to lose!" 

Running out of time and  _ very  _ close to just losing it. 

"Not real, huh?" Rough fingers grasped tightly around the watch face, staring the spy square in the eye. 

And then he pulled, eliciting a pained hiss as the small barbs scraped against the scabbing wound, bringing up tiny bubbles of blood. 

"I'm pretty real. Think real thoughts, cause real pain. Cause we're connected and all that. So, no. I actually have a lot to lose. And like I said before, not dying is something we see pretty eye to eye on." 

"Then do it for self preservation! There are armed agents on their way over  _ right now _ who know you're suspect for  _ murder _ . Of the deputy head of MI5. Who's to say you're going to be safe?" 

Casimir scoffed. 

"They're secret service, not mercenaries. What are they gonna do? Put a bag over my head and frog march me to 5? And then what? Put me on trial? Terrifying. Really." 

"Put you on trial for  _ murder _ . Do you just genuinely not comprehend the gravity of your situation?" 

The blond rolled his eyes. 

"Look. I don't know if Rider ever told you, but the last couple of months have been pretty shit, yeah? And after you've gotten as far as he's gotten in terms of whatever the  _ hell _ the last four months have been, there's only so far getting arrested ranks in terms of deterrent. There are  _ much  _ scarier things out there."

"Wait. Wait,  _ wait _ ." 

"Nothing much I can do otherwise, is there…" 

Ben completely ignored the snide remark, mentally back tracking.

"You were the means to an end, whatever the 'end' was. But you said Alex  _ didn _ 't bring you around out of guilt. That he made a choice too. What was  _ his  _ choice? I assume it wasn't as severe as whatever  _ you _ did…?" 

Casimir paused, contemplating a long moment before breaking out into a wolfish grin sending chills down Ben's spine. 

A simultaneous right  _ and  _ wrong answer. 

"Astute. But the real question is-" he leaned forward, giving the table a light knock. 

"The question is whether you're really ready to know. Do you think you can handle the truth?"

That had the spy thrown for a loop. 

Was it a game…?

Was he being serious? 

Was there something so  _ awfully  _ terrible that Ben was just better off not knowing? It was definitely a possibility in his line of work…

But there was no time to think about things like that.

"Yes. Now spit it out!” 

“Your mistake then.” he plopped heavily back into his seat, eyes sparkling with glee. 

“He chose sentiment over his assignment, sentiment being  _ you _ ." 

He nodded to Ben.

"But he still had a job to get done and he got backed into a corner with no way out, which is where I come in. The  _ means to an end _ . Albeit probably helped just a tiny bit by whatever it was they were lacing in the coke." 

Gregorovich  _ had _ been truthful about that after all…

"I got the job done, and you ended up not dying. But that still leaves the fact that he'd bartered with someone else." 

Ben blanched as realization slowly trickled into his conscious. 

"Someone else…?!" he managed to hiss.

"Which means that you're tied to this whether you like it or not, Daniels. It's the price of living."

Oh…

"Tied  _ really  _ closely, actually. Closer than you probably think, anyway. But for what it's worth, he really  _ really  _ didn't want to do it. Beat himself pretty hard over it, and he hasn't really slept since. But from what he's told me, it was really  _ really really  _ important that he kept you safe." 

"Who…?" He almost didn't want to know. Wanted to just get up and leave and pretend he hasn't heard anything so far. 

But this was important. 

He needed to know, and he couldn't be sure there would be another chance later on..

So he needed to hear it. He needed to know. 

"Who took my place?!" 

"Aliona. Or Allie, for short. Bought yea high-" he held up his hand as high as the chains would let him.

"Twenty-four twenty-five. Brunette. Worked-"

" _ Stop _ . Stop talking." 

Casmiri cut himself off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 

But the self-assured smirk just gave everything away.

He  _ was  _ right.

"Aliona as in Aliona Krostnikaya? The one One they found like two weeks ago outside 5?" 

"Yup." 

"That was you?!"

"Technically. Yeah." He nodded grimly. 

"I'm pretty sure the other one that got murdered, deputy head or something like that.  _ This  _ is what he took to the independent affairs group. At least, I think." 

Ben sat gobsmacked, mind reeling painful fast. It was just  _ so  _ much to take in…

And it  _ couldn't  _ be true. Casimir had to be lying. It just didn't make sense! 

It didn't seem  _ right _ . 

But the logical part of Ben's brain knew, Casimir had no reason to lie about any of this. 

He said so himself. Not dying was something both he and Alex could agree upon.

So to confess to murder. There had to be a reason as to why.

"So you  _ did  _ kill Feaux!" 

"I never said that." The blond snarked back. 

"I said he probably saw what happened." 

"But you  _ do  _ know who it was!" 

"I do, actually. Ve _ eery  _ interesting turn of events, not going to lie,  _ I  _ wasn't even expecting it. Not in the shape he was in."

He licked his lips with a small grin of amusement and a dark glint in his eye.

"Who knew Rider had it in him?" 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Insp:   
> Missio - Kamikazee  
> Son Lux - Easy  
> Apashe - Distance

"Hey.  _ Hey!  _ What the  _ hell  _ do you think you're doing?!" Tom whipped his attention to the new voice, trying to wiggle away with renewed vehemence. 

"He's a civilian. Get your hands off. And get those cuffs as well!" 

"We were told there were two." The sun glasses suit jostled Tom none too gently. 

"Rider and another one." 

"The  _ other one _ has already been transported back to six. Your intel is late." 

"We've got a warrant." 

"Bloody good  _ that _ will do. It's for the wrong person-you can wave it in my face all day, but it doesn't change the fact that  _ he _ -" the spy pointed at the frazzled teen.

"-he  _ isn _ 't the person connected to this warrant. Have you even  _ bothered  _ to read it?!”

“He’s right, you know. You really don’t wanna be doing that.” 

“Alex-” Tom stopped struggling, staring in wide eyed fear towards the newest addition to their motley little group next to the interrogation huts. 

“Agent Alex Rider, we have a warrant for your arrest and extraction. You will be-”

“Harris?” 

“What is going-”

“ _ Harris _ . Where’d they get you?” 

“Uh-from the hut we got put in. Stormed in and woke me up saying I was being arrested…” 

“Did they tell you why?”

“No…?”

“Did they explain their warrant?” 

“For _ sure _ no. That guy-” he nodded to the second suit.

“He just pulled me outta bed and marched me over here like five minutes ago.”

The blond tensed, glaring daggers at the agent arguing with Ben. 

“I see…” 

“Alex-mate. What the fuck is going on?! They say you’re being  _ arrested _ !” he eyed the other agent warily as the man glanced over making eye contact with him as he continued his hushed conversation a little ways away. 

“Mhmm. I am, actually.” he jostled the cuffs on his wrists with a wry smile. 

“For  _ what…? _ ” Tom hissed.

“Murder-” he turned to the agent nearest him for confirmation. 

“-yup. Murder. Or at least, ‘on suspicion of’.” he shrugged. 

“It’s  _ different, _ ” he pointedly whispered.

Tom just stood rooted to the spot, obviously in shock. 

“W-wha- _ huh _ ?!” 

“Gotta breathe. You’re gonna start hyperventilating otherwise.” 

It was a polarization to Tom’s justified agitation. 

“It’s going to be fine. I think you’re coming along as well, actually.” he nodded to the agent who’d finished his phone call.

“Alright. Gregorovich has made it back to six, but Bhagat wants Harris in 5’s custody. We’ll take him back as well.” he handed over the nondescript radio handset over to Ben who took it gingerly, with a frown. 

“Hello?” 

“Agent Daniels-” 

His gaze swept over to the two agents, brows furrowed in question.

“It’s the deputy head of six.” 

Ben narrowed his eyes in extended confusion but returned back to the call.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You know the situation at hand?” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

“Good. Then you will understand that six have been locked out from this investigation. And because Mr. Harris’s status ultimately falls under MI5’s jurisdiction. He will be taken back with Agent Rider.”

“Yes, Ma’am…” 

“As for you, all senior agents who have been called are still expected to return, but there is one last issue I need you to resolve. I have informed the Sergeant already. As soon as you finish, make your way back. That is all for now.” 

“Yes, Ma’am. Right away.” 

“And, Agent Daniels?”

“Yes, Ma’am?” 

“This is no longer personal. You understand?” 

“Yes, Ma’am. Of course.” 

“Good.” 

He handed the radio back, jaw clenched in evident chagrin, but he gave his nod of approval nonetheless. 

“Alright. Tom-” 

“I’m going to MI5…?” 

Ben nodded. 

“Am I-uh-am I being arrested? Or…?”

“You’re not being arrested. Just transported.” one of the agents spoke up, gruff but definitely kinder than he’d sounded when he was pulling Tom out of bed. 

“It’s going to be fine, Tom. I promise. You’re a civilian. They just want to make sure you’re safe.” 

He thanked the heavens for the brunet’s lapse in attention missing the muffled snort of derision. 

If everything worked out, it wouldn’t be too long of a trip back and Tom wouldn’t need to find out just how critical the situation was…

“Alright then. Let’s get to it.” the sunglassed agent broke up the growing silence, tugging the spy over towards the black car. 

So different from 6’s dramatically armored ones. 

It was almost... _ cute _ .

Tom moved without further fight, eyes forward, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. 

Casimir huffed in amusement, shooting the older spy one last dark look before surrendering to the agent’s orders. 

* * *

“How much longer have we got?” 

It was an absolutely  _ jarring  _ reinstatement of sound after what had been nearly an hour and some of the  _ uncomfortably _ tense silence. 

Tom’s goosebumps had lingered even under his sleep wrinkled sweater, like the temperature had plunged and stayed plunged, even with the warm breeze of the car. 

“We passed Raglan a few minutes back. But you probably know that already. It’s the same way to Vauxhall as it is to Thames House.” 

“Oh. True… So give or take three hours?” 

The agent in the passenger’s seat grunted an affirmative. 

“Vauxhall…?” Tom cleared his throat. 

“Matthews moved the entire secondary location over to the Vauxhall building. Something about it being easier to manage.” he waved the answer off, rolling his eyes. 

*“Wait, Vauxhall like 007 Vauxhall?” 

“Yup. The building that blew up in Skyfall.” Tom saw amusement across his face. 

“It’s really MI6?!” 

“Yes!” the spy tittered, looking more than a little appalled. 

“That’s so...anticlimactic actually... the other building was  _ way  _ more spy like. Everyone knows Vauxhall though? Doesn’t that kind of take the point away?”

The two agents snorted, shooting mirthful glances back to Tom in the rearview mirror. 

“I’m serious though! If Vauxhall really is the legit MI6 building, that means Thames House really is the MI5 building and they’re  _ barely  _ ten minutes apart. You pointed it out before-” he turned fervently to the spy. 

“Two of the UK’s biggest intelligence organizations within walking distance of each other just feels… counterintuitive…”

“I mean...you’re not  _ wrong _ .” the driver nodded, contemplating. 

“And like, MI5’s motto is something like ‘protect the realm’ or something. It kind of makes sense because Thames House literally looks like a fucking fortress. But why’s MI6’s motto ‘semper-o?Sem-always secret’ or you know? You can’t put  _ that  _ as your motto and then occupy a  _ big ass  _ building right in central London on the  _ Thames _ .”

“Their rationale has never been the best.” the blond chuckled, shooting Tom an easy going smile as he leaned over to elbow him jovially, lulling the brunette into a fit of laughter as well. 

Tom swore he even saw the two agents upfront break their austerity, huffing in amusement. 

And then his brain was short circuiting, mirthful laughter turning into horrified screams as the cuffs clattered muffled onto the floor before the agent in the passenger’s seat crumpled, skull bouncing off of the tinted window.

He wasn’t sure which sound was worse; the  _ gruesome  _ sound of the poor guy’s neck snapping or the squeal of the wheels, sending the car careening to the right dangerously close to the ditches. 

He sat immovable in his seat nails digging painfully into the plush leather, eyes wide watching the scene unfold in silent terror as the screams started sticking in his throat. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, anchoring him, oddly enough, as the car continued to swerve. 

But the agent didn’t stand a chance. 

Tom saw the life slowly leave as the struggling lessened until he too lay limp in his seat. 

“What the fuck? What the  _ fuck?! _ ” 

He squirmed away, putting as much space as he could between Alex and himself. 

But the spy turned back, leaning in close to look Tom calmly in the eyes.

“ _ Shhh _ . You need to calm down, alright? Just  _ breathe _ .”

The dark glint in his eyes had Tom nodding feverishly, unable to look away even in his fear. 

Alex wasted no further time in reaching forward to press the emergency lights before hauling the man to the back, not bothering to arrange him properly, letting the still warm corpse slump in an awkward position half on the seat and half on the floor. 

He took a deep breath before hauling himself to the front, readjusting the seat before buckling up. 

“Breathe, Harris. We’ve got a long way to go and I’m not going to be able to do anything if you end up suffocating in the back seat.” 

He met the brunet’s petrified eyes in the mirror. 

“And besides-” he switched the hazards off, easing back into traffic.

“-Rider’s probably going to be furious as it is. I can’t have his  _ best friend _ dying on my watch as well, can I? He’d lose his goddamn mind.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to sound terribly cringy but, could you please, P L E A S E tell me what you think so far? I know it's a hassle to leave comments, but I honestly want to know if the story is going alright. Do you guys understand what's happening? Have any questions? Do you like it so far??? I WANT TO KNOW!

The stench was becoming unbearable, even with the air conditioning on the highest setting. The spy hadn’t rolled the windows down and Tom wasn’t feeling even keel enough to ask for it. 

So he did what he could and held his breath, trying his damndest _not_ to look to his left. He had a few minutes ago and promptly dry heaved, unable to get the image of the waxy blue color of the agent’s skin or the sunken eyes behind the skewed sunglasses. It didn’t help that the man was seemingly positioned to stare right at him. 

“We’re close. I know the smell’s revolting, but just hang on for another ten minutes.” 

“Who _are_ you-” Tom braced himself closer to the door, visibly startled at himself for being unable to catch the blurted question. 

“No need to freak out. It’s a fair question.” the blond shot him a cheeky smirk, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror before flicking back to watching the road.

“I guess the easiest way to explain would be to say that I’m Rider’s doppelganger. But that’s not entirely right-hmm.. An alter ego…? No…-” he tapped out a steady beat on the wheel with his thumbs.

“-I’m his way of getting through certain things he didn’t want to go through. So he’s in charge most of the time, but every now and then, when he gets really _really_ stressed, I get to take over.” 

“Oh…” Tom was nowhere _near_ ready to hear _that_ answer, mind traitorously bringing up memories of the excursion. 

“So...You’re Alex too…?” 

“Casimir.” 

“Casimir…Do-uh-do MI6 know about you, or…?”

“Matthews knows. Or he suspects anyway so Jones probably knows as well. Daniels only found out in the past day or so.” 

Tom stilled a moment, trying to digest the mindblowing new information. 

“So how long have you-um-how long have you existed then?” 

“A while.” 

_That_ definitely had Tom’s mind reeling. 

The fact that his best friend had gotten to the point in all of the occupational stress where he’d started _dissociating_. 

Dissociating and _murdering_ people…

“Was it really Alex?” 

“What, the murder of the deputy head?” 

“Yeah…” 

Casimir nodded. 

“I was genuinely surprised he had it in him.” 

Tom felt a wave of nausea roiling in his gut, sending the world tilting in unbalanced chaos. 

Alex. His _best friend_ -his unofficial brother from another mother had gone off the deep end. He swallowed thickly, willing himself to pull himself together. 

“Deputy head as in Jones…?” 

“Oh, no. Not MI6. He murdered the deputy head of MI5. Feaux. But to be fair, he had to. He was covering up my tracks.” 

Casimir took a sharp left, sending Tom’s hands careening atop the dead agent’s cold waxy head. He jerked away with a hiss.

“Sorry, I forgot the road was like this.” 

Tom settled back down, looking out the window to try to figure out where the _hell_ they were. 

They continued driving down the dirt road into what looked like open fields with nothing much else than tall grass and some bodies of water scattered around. 

Uninhabited, generally speaking. 

He jolted again as Casimir took yet another jagged turn, driving them into the thick of it, going a little _too_ fast for comfort. 

And before he knew it, they were facing an innocuous looking silver VW golf. 

Casimir cut the engine, unbelting himself before getting out, motioning for Tom to follow. 

Tom scrabbled behind, gulping down the crisp clean cold air. 

He jumped as the door locked behind him. 

“Come on. We don’t have much time.” he warily made his way over to the passenger’s side, debating a moment before getting in. 

He didn’t have much choice. Especially since he’d left his phone back at camp and the fact that he had no _fucking_ clue where the hell they actually were…

But mainly because he didn’t feel confident in putting it past the chaotic alter Alex to murder him then and there if he chose not to go along, something he wasn’t really keen on testing out. 

“Are you squeamish?” 

Casimir demanded before Tom could even situate himself. 

“What?” 

“I said, are you squeamish?” 

“Oh-no not really.” 

“Good. Then you hold this.” 

Tom flinched at the sudden close proximity of the jagged knife the blond held out before taking it gingerly with both hands. 

He heard the distinctive _snap_ of a injection band as Casimir tied off his circulation just above his elbow. 

He dropped the side he’d been pulling with his teeth, moving with surprising speed and fluidity, rifling through the open first aid kit on his lap before pulling out a disinfecting wipe and a syringe pre-filled with strange amber liquid. 

He wasn’t like where this was going…” 

The needle sunk into the raised veins with ease, sending Tom wincing as the needle disappeared slowly.. 

“Now. I need you to focus, alright?” 

He nodded, meeting Casimir’s serious expression. 

“You can give me the knife back now.” Tom complied, handing the knife over. 

Casmiri took it, juggling it with the small cylinder he’d fished out as well unbeknownst to Tom.

“I need you to hold the plunger and be ready to inject when I say so.” 

“Right-right now…?”

Casimir blinked. 

“Yes.” 

“Okay…” 

“When I say ‘go’ plunge the whole thing. Don’t worry about going slow. Just make sure it gets into my bloodstream.” 

Tom nodded again. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” 

He put the cylinder on top of the watch face, letting it sit for a moment before pressing the button on the top sending it whirring quietly for a few seconds before it beeped. 

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep. 

Second by second. 

And Casimir was off, setting the cylinder down to saw through the thin plastic of the bands with the jagged side until the watch face was free. 

Beep

_Beep._

_Beep. Beep._

Steady hands took their time maneuvering the jagged bits this way and that to avoid as much vein as he could, bringing up bubbles of blood. 

_Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The progress was slow, but there was progress, which Tom supposed was better than nothing. But the sight was making his own veins jump. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Just a _little_ more-two millimeters at most, give or take. But the beeping had Tom on edge, whatever it was and whatever the beeping meant. 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Just a _little_ more-

“Go, Harris. Go!” 

Tom acted without thinking, injecting the liquid like he’d been told to do before his mind could catch up with him. 

Cassimir took a shaky breath, falling limply back in his seat, pulling the window down to toss the watch face out of the car before untying the band, shooing Tom’s hand away to pull the syringe out. 

He tossed it as well without a second thought.

They stayed like that in silence for a few minutes before Casimir sat back up, breathing out sharply, giving his face a few smacks to pull himself together. He straightened up, readjusting his seat before pulling the keys out from the glove compartment, starting the engine with no further fuss. 

“Harris?”

“Yeah?” Tom buckled himself in.

“Thanks for the help.” 

“Oh. Um. No-no problem.” he kept his eyes fixed on the dash in front of him. 

“And I really _am_ sorry about this.” 

“Wha-” he turned toward the blond

And one fell swoop Tom felt pain bloom on his left temple as stars exploded in front of him before tunneling, dragging him into the cold dark depth of unconsciousness.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspo:   
> Two Feet - I feel like I'm drowning   
> Missio - Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea  
> Au/ra - panic room

The smell of cigarette smoke pulled him from the inky depths of unconsciousness, triggering his gag reflex as a wave of nausea crashed over him. 

“Was tha’  _ fucking  _ necess-” 

The rest of the words died in his throat as his bleary eyes registered just what it was he was seeing. 

He hesitated before leaning over to gently prod the blond, sending him jolting almost dropping the takeout cup he held in his left hand perched atop the wheel. And so was his right hand, strangely enough, holding a lit cigarette between fingers.

But it was the blankness in the way he was staring out of the window, the noticeable tension in his shoulders that had Tom backtracking. 

Something was amiss.

“ _ Jesus _ !" the blond snapped. 

"Sorry,  _ sorry _ . I just-” 

“A _ lex _ …?” 

The blond nodded, putting out the cigarette against the barely cracked window before tossing it out, rolling the window up to close. 

He dropped the cup into the cupholder and turned the engine on, dialing the heat up. Tom belated realized just how cold it had been as the hot air spewed out. 

“Where are we?” 

“Carpark in Warwick.”

“The uni?” 

Alex nodded, rubbing at his face. 

He looked  _ exhausted.  _ Even more so than he had back at the SAS camp. 

But the scrapes and blood on his knuckles were new. 

Alex did miss the way Tom’s gaze lingered warily on the raw bloodied mess.

“We had...an argument.” 

“Casimir?” 

The spy tensed, gripping the wheel harder than necessary. 

His breaths were getting shaky. 

“So… he-Casimir-he’s gone?” 

“For now.” Alex took a deep breath relinquishing the wheel, he turned towards Tom, obviously considering his words. 

“Tom, I really am  _ so _ sorry I’ve dragged you into this mess. This wasn’t supposed to be how things were supposed to go and I know it’s a lot to handle…"

“I-it’s not your fault, mate. It wasn’t you. And I’m not dead, so I say we’re good for now.” he nodded, dropping the half-smile as he eyed the stinging guilt in his best friend’s eyes. 

"But are you okay? I mean, do you know what's happened so far or..?"

"I do know, unfortunately." The spy grimaced.

"So what now?" 

Alex turned back, staring listlessly at the steering wheel.

"I don't know." His jaw clenched. 

"They're going to start getting worried right about now, five. Six too, probably. And once they realize something's wrong, they're bound to flag you as a security risk as well." 

Tom froze, heart seemingly stopping mid beat.

A security risk.

What had Daniels said about that? Two to  _ fourteen years _ ?

That they could 'make him disappear'. 

He was only nineteen for fuck's sake. 

A  _ civilian _ . 

Would they charge him with aiding and abetting? Would they even arrest him? If they were feeling  _ really  _ desperate, would his life  _ really  _ matter in the grand scheme of things? 

He was just another civilian after all…

"I don't think I can run this time." 

It was eerily somber.

Tom just kept his eyes straight ahead, trying his best to make as little noise as possible. 

It was a chaotic time. Alex was bound to be stressed out of his goddamn mind. He didn't want to set the bizarre coping mechanism off. 

And he knew. In all honesty, there wasn't anything he could do about his situation. He was at the mercy of the spy _ and  _ his twisted alternate self. The best he could do was keep his head down.

"I'll take us back to Hereford. Turn myself in at R-" 

"Alex?"

Tom floundered as the spy seized grunting in pain doubled over the steering wheel, clutching it desperately. 

" _ Alex?!  _ What's wrong-shit!  _ Shit!  _ Hold on. I’ll get someone- _ "  _ He unbuckled himself, fumbling with the door lock. 

He needed to find a phone. Get help. Do  _ something _ !

Screaming bloody murder was  _ not  _ one of those things.

But he did as he felt his shoulder burn painfully, not  _ quite  _ out of socket but close. 

The vice-like grip on his wrist wasn't helping and neither was the sudden dead-eyed stare that met him as he turned to figure out what the  _ hell  _ had just happened. 

"Mate, you're-you're-uh-bleeding…" he stuttered, gingerly tapping his nose.

"Well bugger.  _ That _ 's never happened before." blood smeared across the spy’s pale skin, gravely scarlet.

He realized all too clearly, ice spreading in his veins.

“You’re not Alex.” it came out just a little louder than a whisper.

Casimir shook his head with a wince. 

“Sorry. But Rider’s not in his right mind at the moment.” 

“He had a plan.” Tom protested, left hand closing around the door handle. He let go at the sound of the door lock.

“ _ That  _ wasn’t a plan. It was suicide ideation.” he spat, starting the engine pulling out in one swift speedy move. 

"It's not like I blew the damn thing up and _drowned_ it. I've _literally_ parked the car not even ten minutes from SAS RHQ building. They'd be bloody incompetent idiots if they can't find it." He rolled his eyes, glancing over to Tom.

“Seatbelt on.” Tom scrambled, buckling up just in time as they sped towards the exit, out of the top floor they’d parked on.

“Sorry for knocking you out.” Casimir tossed the apology out of the blue.

Tom scooted further to the door, eyeing the blond guardedly.

“Knocking you out was surprisingly high on the bastard’s list on what he deemed my ‘personal fuck-ups’. You must be one hell of a friend to outrank potential blacklisting in terms of concern. Almost had an aneurism when you wouldn’t wake up within a half-hour like people  _ normally _ do.”

“Blacklisting?”

Casimir nodded. 

“Let’s see. We’ve got the murder of Kostornikaya  _ and _ Feaux, and then the murders of the two MI5 agents. Technically speaking we-uh-trespassed into SAS RHQ back in Hereford. And most importantly, we’re on the run, right now.”

Oh, Jesus. He was going to be sick. 

“That’s more than enough grounds to get blacklisted. If anything, five might just jump over six with the lock and all. They could go all the way to the foreign secretary and  _ that  _ twit never really liked Alex much so he wouldn’t be above having him burned.”

“Like Jason Bourne?” 

Casimir nodded. 

“He’s been flagged and grounded already. The next step would be to lift security and allow a DoA allowance for retrieval. And then it’ll just be a matter of time. Whoever gets to him first.” 

“So they-actually, who exactly is  _ they _ ? MI6?” 

“Six. Five. Probably SAS as well because he’s technically connected to them. Maybe the SRR as well.” he took a sharp turn, speeding out into the darkening evening sky. 

“So now, we’re going to have to go disappear.”

* * *

“Give me your hoodie.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your hoodie. I have a spare jacket for you.” Casimir tossed a well-worn bomber jacket to Tom, motioning for the brunet to hand over his hoodie. 

Tom obeyed, albeit hesitantly, pulling his hoodie off before handing it over.

The blond followed suit, peeling his own athletic jacket off straightening the sleeves of the dark grey thermal he wore underneath. 

“and pop the dash compartment. There should be a cap and a plastic bag..” 

Tom reached forward, doing as he was instructed. He pulled out the worn hunter green baseball cap and bag and handed it over. 

“Thanks.” Casimir nodded, pulling his hair back before wearing the cap, pulling it snuggly down. He folded the two jackets as packed as he could, shoving both of them in the bag with the empty travel cup before tying it shut. 

“Coffee?” 

“Um...sure.”

Tom jolted as the door slammed shut. 

Casimir tossed the bag in the trash, not missing a step as he made his way to the small rest stop mart. 

It was nearing six in the evening and the temperature was steadily dropping. They'd taken as many smaller roads as they could and waited until the very last minute to stop for fuel. 

That, and because Tom couldn't  _ quite  _ hide the way his stomach grumbled, protesting against the forced half-day fast, and Casimir had silently relented, pulling off to a rest stop.

But with the darkness and back roads, he wasn't entirely sure as to where they were. If their last location at Warwick was anything to go by, he'd say they were probably going up getting further and further away from London. 

They were starting to 'disappear'.

But be it the hunger or the emotional roller coaster effects, he couldn't really say he felt as out of his mind terrified as he'd been earlier that day. 

In all honesty, he was  _ exhaus _ ted. Damn SIS and all the rest of British intelligence, he wanted nothing more than to pretend like nothing happened and to just go to sleep. 

At least for a little bit. 

But past the exhaustion, there was a part of him that just  _ wouldn't  _ let him fall asleep. Not on the move and  _ especially _ not with the  _ not  _ Alex so close by. 

It had taken no more than an hour __ for him to go from a normal teenage civilian to a potential national 'security risk'  _ and  _ hostage to his best friend's psychotic alter identity. It just felt so… surreal. 

He was torn from his thoughts as the door opened, bringing a cold gust.

"Careful-" the blond offered Tom a travel cup, setting his own down in the cupholder.

"They're both ham and cheese." He handed the plastic bag over as well before shutting it, making his way to the gas pump.

He paid in cash, moving with unsuspecting calm.

So nondescript. 

Everything from his posture to what he was wearing. The way he carried himself. 

It made him look a lot older than he was, fitting into the background just a  _ little  _ too well. Like he was growing invisib-  _ oh _ .

So  _ this  _ was what was meant in real life so unlike the movies. 

He hadn't up and completely  _ vanished  _ just yet, but he  _ was  _ going deeper into hiding. It was only a matter of time before he really disappeared.

But tom wasn't like that. 

He  _ knew  _ he wasn't like that.

Both Casimir and Alex were in a league of their own and Tom couldn't reach it even if he tried. 

So what then? 

Was he a bargaining chip? Deadweight? 

If so, would Casimir get rid of him when his usefulness ran out? When dragging around a civilian would become an impossibility. 

Would he consider Alex's feelings on Tom staying  _ alive _ and in one piece, or would his own survival eclipse that?

He flinched out of his thoughts as the driver’s door opened again, slamming shut. 

“We’ve got about fifty-some minutes left.” 

Casimir belted up again before starting the engine. 

“Where exactly are we headed-I mean, just curious is all.”

“Manchester.”

* * *

“What do you mean they haven’t been found yet?! It’s bloody been  _ two hours _ !” 

“Yes, Ma’am. We’ve tracked them to just about Pencelli, but the cameras past that up until Crickhowell were down so we don’t have visual confirmation during that point. But they-um-they aren’t showing past that point either…” 

“Then widen the perimeters! Jesus _Christ._ It’s half-past _six_. Lomell and Wells left at one. That gives Rider almost six hours! He could be more than halfway to Inverness by now!” 

“Yes, Ma’am. Sorry, Ma’am.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Find him! He’s probably armed and dangerous  _ and  _ he’s got a civilian hostage. We’re already being scrutinized as it is with Feaux’s murder. We don’t need a civilian one on our hands.” 

“Yes, Ma’am. GCHQ has given the green light for this joint search. We’ll broaden the range and keep you updated.”

“Good. Now if you excuse me, I have a call with 6 to make. God knows  _ they’re  _ probably running around like a headless chicken. They should have just cut him out  _ years  _ ago.”


	30. Chapter 30

It became brighter and brighter the nearer they got to their destination, neon signs, and store lights seeping into the night sky. It was what was expected of a uni town. Little restaurants and markets and other miscellaneous shops enticing students roaming to and fro.

Tom felt so detached. 

It was a strange realization, the fact that a chunk of those around them were actually his age. 

_Alex's_ age. 

Nineteen year olds focused mainly on school and friends. As they should. 

Making different sorts of difficult decisions, like whether it was really worth it to walk all the way to that one curry shop or the paper due that week in some class. Quizzes. 

Exams.

And while _he_ could imagine himself doing so, there was just too big of a dissonance to try to imagine the current Alex-imagine _Casimir_ living the uni life. 

All things considered, it was actually pretty unfortunate. Alex had always been smart. Always driven and social. 

In another life without MI6's decisively fucking up his life, he was positive Alex would have done well. He'd have probably enjoyed it too. 

But that wasn't even an option anymore. 

There were more important things he needed to do and normalcy wasn't compatible with any of them. 

Tom caught the street name out of the corner of his eye as they slowed, turning in. 

Arkley Street.

It was student housing for sure. Rows of flats and stand alone little studios lined the quiet street.

They continued to drive, getting to the end of the Street before Casimir turned into the driveway of a little studio. 

It was dark so he couldn't be _too_ sure, but it looked like any generic black and white Brit house in central London. 

Compact but neat, with absolutely _no_ personally defining traits. 

And compared to the houses around them, this one looked _particularly_ unlived in. 

He unbuckled as Casimir killed the engine, unbuckling himself swiftly, Keys in hand as he stepped out of the car slamming the door shut behind him.

Tom followed suit, dragging himself out, stretching his sore muscles. He winced as he accidentally jostled his arm. 

"There are some painkillers inside." Tom quirked a curious brow at the sound of the keys.

"I didn't know Alex had a second house…"

"He doesn't. It's mine."

" _Your_ house?" 

He nodded, pushing the door open.

"Bought it the day Rider decided to bail from the hospital." 

He shut the door behind Tom, doing the additional locks.

"After the mission?"

"Yup. Had a feeling things would go to shit. It was too big of a mission for things to end clean. Especially with Kostornikaya."

"So does Alex know about this place?" 

"Maybe. We've only recently started being able to recall what happened outside the episodes."

"So no one else knows?" 

"That's the intention."

Casimir moved around the darkened place, reaching around until he felt the familiar coldness of the metal lamp near the door.

The light sent everything into sudden relief, presenting the sparse living room. There were a few cardboard boxes stacked off into the corner of the small living room connected to the small kitchen.

"The bathroom's at the very end of the hall. You can have the first door to the right." 

He wandered ahead, taking in the empty house trying to figure out what was happening. 

They were in _Casimir’s_ place. Or a place that Casimir bought, probably during one of Alex’s longer stressed episodes if the distance was anything to go by. 

How had the alter even managed to get the money? 

Hadn’t Alex told him before, that 6 was mostly in control of his assets. Even with becoming an adult. 

He hadn’t been able to sign any new contracts so everything was still under 6’s power. 

And a place like this wasn’t going to come cheap. 

Maybe to rent.

It wasn’t like Alex wasn’t better off than most people his age. Becoming an official agent _did_ have its perks. Being an actual senior agent paid pretty well. 

But buying a property in a uni town… _that_ would take a considerable amount. Something was would surely be flagged by six…

And the fact that Alex may or may not actually have known about it. 

Maybe that was how he managed to get away with it, to begin with. If all eyes were on Alex and Alex wasn’t actually aware, they would have nothing to be suspicious about.

But that still begged the question of where the money had come from.

“It’s mostly thanks to Gregorovich.” Tom felt a chill go down his spine as he turned to suddenly be face to face with the blond who for sure _hadn’t_ been anywhere near a second ago.

Casimir flicked the lights on, gazing around the empty room. 

“Gregorovich?”

“He helped divert the amount needed.” 

“So you _really_ bought this place?!” 

He stared blankly at the brunet. 

“Yes…?” 

“I just-and Alex doesn’t know.” 

Casimir shook his head. 

“And neither does 6 or 5 or anyone in the intelligence community really,” he added before Tom could ask.

“But why?” 

“Why what?”

“Did you know this was going to happen?” 

The blond shrugged. 

“Eventually, yes. This mission was- _is_ different. Rider’s gotten comfortable. He’s too optimistic about 6. I mean, it’s been a routine four or so years. It’s not entirely unheard of. But he found something out during the mission. Some sort of information.”

“ _Just_ him?”

“Just him. I tried but it’s buried pretty deep. I can’t get it.” 

“And it’s causing him to be like this-with the whole dissociation?”

“That’s part of it.” 

He didn’t clarify and further and Tom didn’t want to push.” 

Hell, he wasn’t sure if he was in the proper mindset to be able to handle the information let alone try to figure out where it fit into the grand scheme of ‘fucked up’ they were in. 

“But anyway-” he offered Tom a black can. 

“SCORPIA tech. It’s a long term cover. Put it on like hair dye and wait for half an hour and then wash it out. It should get you to about Daniels’ hair color. 

“Ben? Like a blond brown?” 

“Yeah. And don’t forget your eyebrows.” he took out another smaller box from his pocket. 

“Contacts.” 

“Brown?” 

“Grey.” 

“Grey?”

“Brown is what they’d expect.” 

“Oh…”

“Take two of these-.” he pressed an tagless orange bottle in Tom’s hands. 

“There should be water bottles in the fridge. But get the hair out of the way first.”

“Alright.” 

“Sleeping bag’s in the closet.

He left without another word, heading back towards the living room.

* * *

“Woah.”

Casimir paused shaking off the last of the water in his newly dyed hair. It was like looking at a completely new person. 

Blond hair had become a dark almost blue-black, and he’d shaved most of the shagginess off leaving a not _quite_ buzzed edge with a slightly longer front. Enough to brush to the side. 

His eyebrows were the same color, but it was his eyes that really had Tom doing a double-take. 

Chocolate brown eyes had jumped the color wheel into a steely frost blue, almost the same as Gregorovich. 

“I’m not going to lie, this is so trippy.” 

Casimir shot Tom a wry smile. 

“I’ve got to stop by the student center in the morning to pick something up. I’ll get some groceries on the way back. Stay in the house, yeah?” he leveled the brunet with a sharp look, all but ignoring his comment. 

Tom nodded. 

“Good. Put the contacts on, and get some rest. We won’t be here too long and it’ll be the last bit of peace you’re probably going to get for a while.”

He shut the lights off, throwing the house back into darkness before retreating into his room, locking the door behind him.

* * *

“Hello. I was wondering if anyone has brought in a book bag. I’ve been looking for it since last Thursday, and I was told someone might have brought it in on Wednesday. I’ve been out of town and didn’t get to check back yet-” bright blues opened just a fraction wider, head tilted _just_ so. 

The picture of bashful charm. 

He shot the girl a small smile, chewing on his lower lip, hands nervously fiddling with his phone.

“Do you know what color is it? Any defining features?”

“Um, it’s mostly black with some dark grey bits. Two side pockets and a front pocket as well-” he hesitated seemingly trying to remember. 

“Oh! I think it has a little silver whistle clipped to the front loop.” he nodded. 

“Sure! Let me go back and check for you.” she smiled, tucking stray blonde locks behind her ear.

“Just wait here for a moment, alright?” 

“Yeah, sure. Thank you so much!” he offered a real grin. 

The student union was surprisingly packed for the early hour, the smell of coffee filling the air with the innane background chatter. 

He fit in well. 

It would be a pity to have to leave. 

“Hi! Good news!” she held up the bag.

“Oh thank _god!”_ he exclaimed, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Thought my landlord was going to kill me. He's right paranoid about these things. Would have had to pay for a whole new lock." He rambled. 

"I'm glad you'll still be alive." 

"Me too." He chuckled. 

"Thank you so much for the help!" 

"No problem! That's what I'm here for." 

He gave a small wave as he rounded the corner, dropping the genial smile. 

The easiest part was done. 

Things were going to get difficult. 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Inspo:  
> Alt-J: Breezeblocks  
> Glass Animals: Crazy (Gnarles Barkley cover)

"You've got mail. Or Pietro Koval does, anyway. From NatWest."

Casimir locked the door behind him before accepting the letter.

"Oh, good. They're actually on time." He accepted the letter before making his way towards the kitchen to put the groceries away.

"I'm surprised you're awake. You took the painkillers pretty late."

"They weren't just paracetamol, were they…" Tom replied wryly, mouth thinning in still groggy bemusement.

"Hydrocodone." 

"For what…?!" 

"Whatever it was they were holding Rider at the hospital for." Casimir opened the fridge, balancing on his haunches as he restocked the fridge one by one, pulling them from the brown bag. 

"Those were Alex's?"

"Mhm. He has a knack for flushing them."

"So the bottle Gregorovich gave-"

"Was a backup. They just assume he got rid of them."

"Isn't that kind of dangerous…?"

"He's not exactly the type to start dealing, is he? And he’s not suicidal. But even if he was, he's got better ways to do it." he folded the bag up neatly, tossing it on the counter.

“It-um-” Tom swallowed thickly. He could hear his hearing tunnel and for a brief moment, reality itself came to a jarring halt. 

_Oh_. 

Oh yeah... 

It had been what, two years? 

Two _bloody_ years. 

_Christ._

Time was weird like that. So, _so_ bizarre. Because he could have sworn that the feeling of utter helpless terror he felt that morning would never _ever_ leave and that he’d just have to deal with being stuck in that _awful_ moment in space and time. 

But here he was. 

And Alex too- _mostly_ … But he _was_ probably better off than he would have been if Tom hadn’t woken up dying of thirst at that ungodly hour. 

“-It didn’t work too well for him. The last time, I mean…” he took a steadying breath. 

Casimir surveyed the pinched expression, cold blue eyes meeting somber greys. But there was something more. 

Something like...like fear? 

Fear and...Fear and _grief_? 

He cocked his head, gears turning piecing things together. 

“When was that?” 

“September. Bout two years ago.” 

“Two years ago, huh...Two. Two- _”_ his eyes narrowed in concentration. 

He knew this. Or knew _of_ it at least. Seen the memories so ingrained but deeply hidden away. 

This one was different. This one was so meshed in his mind that it passed the boundary of Casimir's own creation, spreading its sharp tendrils through trauma into his _other_ mind.

It was cruel how, despite the sheer amount of desperate effort hadn’t been enough to repress the memory altogether. Like some sort of divine punishment. 

Contrapasso. 

They would never _ever_ die again as long as he was alive. 

Even _he_ had to admit that it was cruel. The spy hadn’t even _meant_ to do so. He’d been so close. 

_So_ close that for a brief second it hadn’t felt real. 

Like he was just imagining the scorching heat. 

The heinous smell. 

But it was the screams that forced him back to reality. To come to grips with the fact that what he was seeing _was_ indeed real. 

That he had failed. 

Failed _spectacularly_ , and that he had blood on his hands. 

He had cried. Sobbed and screamed and screamed and _screamed_ until his throat was raw inside and out, rooted to the spot as he watched smoke pour from inside the container, burning white-hot as it filled the air with its acrid plumes matching the color of the moonless night.

But of it all, it had been the sounds that had stayed with him. And they still did. Clear as the night he’d heard them.

The desperate pleas for help. 

The shrill pained shrieks as they pounded on the blistering metal walls in terrified desperation. 

The way all of it slowly but surely ground to an absolute halt until there was nothing left but the sound of a container fire dying out. 

“ _Oh_. So that was two years ago, huh?” 

Tom perked up. 

“Do you know about it?” 

“Mostly. At least the part that sunk him. It’s not pretty.” he crouched, sliding down to sit up against the cabinet. 

Tom followed suit, legs turning to jelly at the thought of maybe getting to finally understand what had gone so wrong. 

To get some sort of closure. 

“I see it occasionally. That mission. When he’s extra tired or stressed. Never really left his mind actually. He tried-tries really _really_ hard to bury it, but it’s always there.”

Tom hugged his knees to his chest, already doubting himself. Doubting whether or not he was ready to actually know the details. 

OSA aside, he was pretty sure Alex had a reason for never talking about most of his missions. Especially the more traumatic ones. 

He just kept it all bottled up inside, dealing with it in his own way in his own time. He _did_ start regularly attending therapy after all. 

“Where’d he get sent that time? He never said.” 

“France. Mostly Paris, but he ended up in a port city almost four hours away, Genêts.”

“Was that intentional or…?” 

“No, his team fucked up.” 

Tom winced. 

“It was a joint sting operation with the DGSE. The group was supposedly shipping to the UK.”

“Drugs?” 

“People. Little kids.” his jaw tensed, half lost in thought. 

“You can probably guess what for.” it sounded more bitter than Tom had heard him ever be. So the assassin alter did have feelings after all…

“It was a team of four, plus Rider, so five altogether. But two of them were new. Didn’t trust him. Didn’t want to work with him. They tried to show him up and they got played, cover blown and everything. And that got one of the senior agents killed.”

“He was seventeen. A fully fledge MI6 agent!” 

Casimir shrugged. 

“Ego’s a bitch. But in this line of work, if teamwork is necessary, you can’t have that sort of mistrust. Something’s _bound_ to go wrong. And it did. DGSE pulled their agents. Matthews _didn’t_. This was too important of a mission. They wouldn’t have another chance” 

Tom’s veins turned to ice. 

His own _boss_ had left him to complete a team mission _alone_ with a blown cover, at _seventeen_. 

It was crazy. 

_Reckless_.

“And in Rider’s defense, he really tried. Got all the way to where they were being held, all twenty-two of them in this old rusty shipping container in a seedy little port in Genêts. All he needed to do was to get them out and to the extraction point ten minutes from the port.” he chewed at his lip taking a moment to fully remember. 

“And then DGSE got excited. They sent the remaining senior agent back in as back up. But that tipped the smugglers off. So close…” 

Tom held his breath, trying to digest everything. 

He had a _terrible_ feeling that he knew just how things ended. 

“Put your arm out for a second-” Casimir ordered suddenly, gesturing to Tom’s right arm. 

“Like-like this?” 

“Yeah. To the side.” 

There was a little less than half a meter between Tom’s outstretched hand and Casimir’s left shoulder as they sat, back up against the cabinets. 

“That’s how close he was to the lock before the container on top blew up. Burned a hole straight down and caught on the rags. And it turned out that _that_ was the contingency plan. In the case of failure, the bastards decided that biting the bullet and burning the evidence would be better than any potential leaks. There were a few kids over ten so they’d be able to give at least _some_ sort of information.” 

Tom flinched, wrenching his arm away. 

“He didn’t have anything else on him but a karambit he nicked somewhere along the line. But eleven centimeters of low-grade steel won’t do jack _shit_ against a business-grade container lock. So all he could do was stand there and watch while they burned up inside.”

“ _Jesus_ …” he felt a rolling in his gut. He couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine…

“I would have thought it would be the smell he remembered the most, but the part he actually remembers most vividly is the sound.”

“Of the children…?” Tom answered with bated breath, hoping against all hope that he was wrong. But he knew he wasn’t. 

It was the obvious answer. 

Twenty-two kids trapped in a burning container in the dark. 

In a twisted way, he really _really_ just hoped they didn’t suffer much. That they were out with the smoke than conscious. 

“He still hears them, in his nightmares. The screaming. The pleading. They were banging on the metal walls. And then it goes silent. And just like that, twenty-two kids disappeared.” he shook his head. 

“And then, of course, DGSE dumped the blame on 6 which really meant that they blamed Rider. And he knew. But he blamed himself too. Still does.” 

“D-did his boss say anything?” 

“Matthews? No. But he did put him on forced leave for two weeks.”

“And that’s when he-” Tom froze, words dying in his mouth. 

He couldn’t say it. 

In all honesty, he still hadn’t come to terms with what had happened, or almost happened. 

He just wanted to forget it all. 

Everyone survived and went, business as usual. 

But he knew that wasn’t really the case either. 

“Weirdly enough, he remembers almost everything from the mission, but not much after it. It’s all a blur until the interrogations seminar with 6.” 

Tom was quiet for a moment, hugging his knees tighter trying to figure out how to string the words together. How to properly explain what had happened without losing it.

“He-um” he took a shaky breath. 

“I think it was the night before he was supposed to go in for his readmission debrief. I had school so we had dinner and I finished up some homework while he filled out the return paperwork and he said he was going to head to bed early cause he’d have to be at Matthew’s office by seven. So we said goodnight around ten. I went to sleep around eleven but I woke up wanting some water so I get downstairs as quietly as I could and I just happened to look out the kitchen window and I see-” he stuttered, choking on air. 

“I see-” he felt a familiar prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

Two years and it _still_ terrified him to _tears_ thinking about it. 

Tom huffed, wiping at the pooling aggressively. 

“He’s just _sitting_ there with a half-empty bottle of vodka and a gun and- _Christ_ ” he hissed, burying his face in his knees, feeling the first stirrings of panic as his breathing picked up speed. 

This was not good. 

Not good at all. He’d hyperventilate at this rate. And that would leave him at the mercy of Casimir, something he was _definitely_ not comfortable with.

But he’d opened the can of worms. He might as well finish. 

He gulped down some air, pressing his palms into his eyes, feeling the fleece of his sweater absorb the tears that were pooling. 

“I panicked and called Daniels and he came over with Blair and Martin-I mean, Snake and-uh- Eagle. They figured something out but Daniels tranqed me so I dunno what exactly it was they did. And Alex never brought it up. Jones had him in confinement at Vauxhall for four days after that. I didn’t get to see him until he got to come back home the first day of the seminar.” he sniffled, clearing his throat suddenly feeling all too self-conscious at his burst of emotion. 

“Sorry. I just-it was a crazy week then. I knew he came back pretty high strung but I-I didn’t know how bad it was…”

“He’s not suicidal anymore.” 

“He’s not suicidal, just really _really_ stressed to the point of dissociating.” Tom snorted in bemusement. 

“And on the run from the entirety of British Intelligence,” he added cynically. 

“True. But in all fairness, he’s survived worse.” 

“Worse than right now?” Tom quirked a brow in obvious disbelief. 

Casimir nodded, eyes betraying nothing. He was one-hundred percent serious. 

“He survived Cerrul _and_ ARES.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as of now you know:  
> Fox: Ben Daniels  
> Snake: x - Blair  
> Eagle: x - Martin  
> Casimir: Pietro Koval


	32. Chapter 32

"You know, I don’t think that exposure therapy is meant for your type of trauma. You'd end up dead before you'd ever come close to getting over it." 

He faltered for a split second, numb fingers gripping the porcelain sink sides as he watched the blood-red water swirl down the drain. 

"And you  _ know _ it's not real, mate. The blood water. It's been, what?  _ Two years _ . You really  _ should _ know this by now."

Alex froze, fingers twisting into a tight fist as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

What had Doctor Laurence told him that one session? Breathe seven counts in and four out? Or was it eight in and seven out-or... _ fuck _ . 

Nearly four in the goddamn morning and his mind was shot. Everything just felt so fuzzy. So muted and-and not  _ real _ .

But it  _ was _ real.

He was real. The ice-cold water he'd been throwing at his face was real. The almost blackish scarlet blood in the water was-okay, the blood might not have been real, but the doppelganger perched on the tub's edge was  _ definitely  _ real. 

He was too logical not to be. 

Especially when Alex himself couldn't even string together a coherent sentence at the given moment. 

All there was was the uncomfortable numbness in his neck and face and the almost  _ painful  _ clench of his chest after it had nearly jackhammered out of his rib cage.

That and the acrid taste of bile from what he’d managed to heave up.

"Since when have you been a doppelganger? Though you were just trapped in my head." Alex opened his eyes again, glancing up to the mirror.

"I’m surprised  _ that’s  _ your first question. Have you actually seen yourself?” 

His eyes flicked forward, jolting as he realized just what was meant. 

“What the  _ hell  _ have you done?!” 

“Don’t think it looks  _ too  _ bad. I mean, you’ve gone this dark before. Back then, you remember? In Paris.” 

“Shut up.” he hissed squeezing his eyes shut, mentally fighting off the new wave of memories.

He could almost feel the burning waves of air up his neck. 

Smell the terrible  _ awful  _ stench. 

The smell of death. Blood and skin burning up. 

And it was all because of him. 

He had blood on his hands. 

“But anywho, I think the eyes really bring everything together. Kind of reminds me of Gregorovich, actually.” 

Alex snapped his eyes open.

“An almost perfect match, would you say?” Casimir smirked. 

“One step closer to becoming the son he never had.” he chuckled, nudging Alex with his foot. 

Alex choked, grimacing as chills ran down his spine at the frankly  _ appalling  _ suggestion of the monster of a man he’d come to know. 

To fear, in all honesty. 

Yassen Gregorovich and ‘paternal’ just failed to compute in his head. 

“Oh, come on. He does actually care about you. In his heartless assassin way.”

“You honest to god think that?  _ Honestly _ ? About  _ Gregorovich _ ?” he turned, brows furrowing as he stared in concern.

“He saved you that time, with Ganim. And he allowed 6 to at least  _ try  _ to get you in Samara.” Casimir folded his arms in a silent challenge.

The spy scoffed, turning derisively, right hand still clamped around the sink. 

“He let Three pump me with enough cocaine for a heart attack And then he let the fucking psycho bury me in a casket  _ knowing _ I’m claustrophobic-”

“But you didn’t die. And you got past the claustrophobia eventually.” 

“And as for Samara-” Alex flat out ignored the rebuttal. 

“He knew Matthews would fuck up. I killed four people!  _ Four _ ! And he only allowed the trade because he needed Ben’s file. Because he was going to use him as the next target, in case you’ve forgotten.” 

“Yeah, but you ended up killing someone else and he still let you off the hook.”

“No.  _ No _ .” the spy grit out shaking his head, turning fully, both hands gripping into white-knuckled fists. 

“I didn’t kill her.  _ You  _ did. In an  _ insanely  _ vile way I might add, you fucking  _ psycho _ .” 

Casimir shrugged. 

“Let’s not forget who’s mind I popped out of, Mr. I-killed-5’s-deputy-head.”

“Because you were  _ careless! _ ” His voice climbed a notch.

“Oh, hey.  _ Hey _ .  _ Shhh- _ ” Alex swore he felt his eye twitch at the mock whisper. 

“You’ll wake Harris.” 

The alter smirked wickedly, wiggling off the tub’s edge to stand face to face with the spy.

“That’s right-” he licked his lips, cocking his head in defiance. 

“Your very best friend is in this very house as we speak. Not the thickest walls you know, it being a uni housing and all.” 

Alex stiffened, eyes narrowing in anger.

“This is selfish and reckless. You know it is.” he hissed. 

“You  _ know  _ all of hell could break loose. And then what? What if it  _ isn’t  _ 6, hmm? What the  _ fuck  _ are you going to do if it’s  _ them,  _ huh?! You think you can get away without any casualties this time? In  _ this  _ situation?!” He gestured roughly to Casimir’s leg. 

“It’s fine! You ran the entire assault course like four times.” he rolled his eyes.

“On  _ painkillers _ !”

“It was a non-displaced! The doctor said it was healing fine.”

“You saw the results. Eight minutes. You- _ I’m  _ not in any sort of condition to even  _ try  _ to hold up against them.  _ Especially  _ not with Tom to look after.” he spat, lowering his voice. 

“Then just cut him loose.” 

“ _ What... _ ?!” 

“Dump him outside a station or something. You can find another car. It’s a busy place. There’s like seven lots around here.” 

“I  _ can’t _ , and you know that. You know SI would never let him live it down. They’d lock him up if anything. Especially when they realize he can’t help them. He’s too much of a liability at this point.” 

“Then you know what the next best option is.” 

Alex stilled.

“You know full and well that he’s too far under your shadow for any sort of normal future. He’s got so much potential. I know it. You know it. Hell, 6 probably picked up on it  _ eventually _ .” Casimir quirked a brow before flopping back down on the tub’s edge, elbows braced on his knees as looked up at the spy. 

“He won’t survive it, you know. He’s too-”he grimaced, considering the right words. 

“-he’s too humane. Too sane.”

“Like he should be. He’s got no reason not to be.” Alex retorted sharply. He wasn’t liking where the conversation was headed. 

Like he’d missed something.

“And in the future, when he gets roped in-”

“He’s too much of a liability already. 6 is smarter than that.” 

The alter brought his hands up in placating surrender. 

“Sorry, if.  _ If  _ he ever gets roped in, which is more than likely, all things considered. It’s going to get him killed. You know that. He cares too much. Especially about you.”

“Yeah, because we’re good friends. He’s like a brother to me.” 

“A civilian brother, that you’re actively putting in danger. He’s still got nightmares from that time you tried to off yourself you know.  _ Still _ . Badly at that. Could even tell me what happened without bursting into tears. You really think he’s going to survive this?”

“No, I don’t. Which is why he shouldn’t have been involved in the first place!” 

Casimir held a finger to his lips, head whipping to the door.

There were a few seconds of tense silence before there was a soft knock on the door. 

“Al? Is that you? You okay, mate?” 

Casimir tracked his gaze from the door back to Alex who stood backed up against the sink glaring murderously back at him. 

*“вы должны дать ему ответ”

“Alex…?” the soft knocks came again. 

**“оставайся мертвым еще какое-то время.” Casimir stood, patting him amiably on the shoulder, shooting him an easygoing smile before a hand snaked its way to Alex’s collar, pinning him in place against the sink. The fist came out of nowhere, clipping him roughly on the chin knocking his head back as he reeled. 

And all of a sudden Alex saw Casimir standing behind him, he himself flipped to face forward.

***“извините за это” 

It was the last thing he heard, whispered into his ear before he felt the aggressive kick behind his knees, shoving him down low enough for the alter to grab on to his hair before propelling him face-first onto the edge of the sink. 

“Alex?” the knocking grew louder, more harried in obvious concern. 

“Are you alright? Just-you don’t have to come out. Just tell me whether or not you’re-”

Tom stepped back as he heard the door unlock, opening up. 

“Al-”

“It’s fine. Go back to sleep.” 

“You’re-”

“Bleeding? I’m aware.” he brushed past the shocked brunet. 

“I’m going out for a bit. Don’t stay up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *you should answer him  
> **stay dead a while longer  
> ***sorry about this


	33. Chapter 33

“There are only so many places in the bloody country he could be. You’ve got to have _some_ sort of idea!” 

“If he is still in Britain at all.” 

“In the condition he’s in? You said so yourself, Gregorovich. He’s ‘recovering from a serious injury’. That he’s ‘not in the best condition.’” 

The Russian stared impassively back, taking in the uncharacteristic spew of emotion in cold indifference. 

He wasn’t under arrest. 

He wasn’t being held as an international fugitive either. 

In all technicality, he was sitting in front of the head of MI6 in his Vauxhall office as a ‘willing informant’. 

But that wasn’t _quite_ the case. 

It was more of a conditional affiliation slash ceasefire to deal with a certain ticking time-bomb of a situation they were all sitting on. 

A living, breathing mess of a problem that had everyone scrambling to try and figure out just _what_ exactly their situation was.

Where was Alex Rider?

Was he still in the country at all or was Gregorovich actually on to something?

But most importantly, was it even Alex holding the reigns, or was it the _other_? They needed to know with undeniable certainty because so many things were sensitively contingent on whichever happened to be the answer. 

If it _was_ Alex, they were in luck. 

While he _was_ arguably one of _the_ best agents in the entire bloody organization if it really was him completely in charge of his faculties, they would be at an advantage. 

They had time, and time had a fickle way of being something of a double-edged sword. 

Was he dangerous? Yes. Lethal, even. 

But Matthews had known and worked with him for two or so years. Jones for nearly five.

They knew how he worked. 

How he thought. 

At least generally.

Which, in this situation was better than nothing. 

Even Gregorovich had _some_ sort of grasp on the workings of the spy’s mind, having seen him work himself through what had been a _grueling_ nightmare of a time during the last mission. 

But that was Alex. 

This _other_ -Casimir. 

He was a completely different story. 

From what Matthews had seen _that_ time during one of the earlier debriefs, he'd caught a glimpse into those cold deadened eyes and knew it wasnt Alex he wass seeing 

The mannerisms. 

The words.

The _anger_. 

Whoever it was he had seen that day, whoever it was that had sat glaring daggers at him for that brief moment in time wanted blood. There was vengeance to be had and _that_ was a liability in and of itself. 

He should have flagged Rider then. Should have tossed him back to Doms just to be sure, but there just _wasn't_ enough time. 

They needed the intel to try and figure out what the _hell_ had happened so that they could prepare themselves to keep the casualties as low as they could.

So he shipped the blond off into Beacons as his predecessor had, trusting one singular prototype gadget as security.

The senior levels of 6 were under lockdown with an internal affairs trial looming over their heads because the still teen genius had gone and chopped up a fellow agent for unknown reasons.. 

Then he'd gone and tried to ground the investigation by murdering the _deputy head_ of MI- _fucking_ -5. 

And then he’d gone and killed two senior level 5 agents and ran off, civilian hostage in his clutches. 

Matthews had seen the crime scene photos. The gruesome decomposition happening inside that car. The one Rider had practically parked in SAS RHQ’s back yard. 

There had been another car that had been sitting for a good few days.

Where exactly _that_ one went not even GCHQ could say. But the results from forensics had his tension headache growing tighter and tighter, especially when Smithers had called him down to hand over the still bagged and tagged watch. 

_“The toxin has been triggered”_ was all the man mumbled, trying his best to hide his distress.

If the toxin had been triggered it meant that he _should_ be dead.

But the fact that he’d managed to get the watch off altogether had Matthews doubting the former.

And if Rider _had_ died, whether from the toxin or blood loss, where was Harris? Was _he_ still alive?

Or had Rider’s ‘other’ snapped and disposed of him as well?

It seemed logical enough. They were on the run, chased by The best of 5 _and_ 6 not to mention the SAS and the SRR. 

Traveling with a civilian, an untrained teenager nonetheless would be synonymous with lugging around dead weight. 

It was reckless.

Needlessly so.

But maybe that was the point, recklessness. As leverage.

Matthews held back an exhausted sigh. 

With the chaos of the past two weeks sleep had been almost nonexistent and the compounded lack of sleep and near constant vigilance was starting to take its toll. 

He wasn’t delusional. He’d come from a military background, put in his due diligence as an active agent. He knew his limits

But that had been nearly twenty years ago, when he still had some semblance of youthful energy. 

Time caught up around thirty five when he felt the urge to try a new road. So after a solid fifteen years with the Royal Marines, he said his goodbyes, discharged with honors and signed on with Defence Intelligence, facing his climb to the top with nothing but near destructible single minded insurmountable determination.

And fifteen years in climbing, he made it.

He was personally chosen and appointed by the Foreign Secretary, Sir Melrose himself. 

That had been a little more than two years ago. 

Two years of mostly un notable functionality had him unconsciously lowering his guard just a tiny bit. That had been his first mistake.

The second was turning a blind eye to the frankly appalling elephant in the room. The morning he officially met the official roster of senior agents, he almost didn’t believe it. 

Didn’t _want_ to. 

But he saw the unmistakably young face silently slip into the small lecture hall nearly at the end of the ‘change of power’ briefing looking more than a little frazzled. 

His hair was still notably damp and there were dark circles under his eyes but he’d managed to dress the part, clad in a sharp blue black suit with a white button up and a simple oxblood and gold tie. He’d even opted for a pair of polished brown leather oxfords. 

It was up to date with the unspoken business formal that was expected of the senior level agents, but it was precisely for those reasons that it had felt so strange. 

It was the way he carried himself. 

The way he walked and talked. 

And god forbid, the cold ferocity in his eyes. He had fit in just a little _too_ well with the other agents, the ones who had a good decade or two on him.

He looked young, but Matthews could tell that it was only superficial. Age be damned, Alex Rider was a force to be reckoned with and _that_ job fell to him.

And he should have followed his gut instinct then and put him on suspension until he turned eighteen. 

Just two years to give him the opportunity to finish his schooling and get some much needed rest. Something he noted was missing in Rider’s file.

He had started working for 6 under Blunt and Jones as of two years ago at the age of fourteen.

 _Fourteen_. 

It had left an uncomfortable taste in his mouth when he realized just what sort of occupational situation they’d put the teen in. 

But what had been even more concerning was the fact that Rider had willingly opted to join at sixteen, just a year before his own appointment to head SIS. And while the decision had been Rider’s to make, he didn’t really have much of a choice considering the fact that he never actually got to finish his schooling. He did have some tutoring here and there between missions at fifteen, but those had stopped sometime after his sixteenth, along with any and all personal academic plans.

He’d seen the briefings. He knew that the teen was talented, a genius even. Highly adaptable and brilliant in the field. 

But it didn’t change the fact that he was still a minor. 

Sixteen wasn’t the age for the sort of work he was doing. What he was seeing. To be able to take the level of emotional and physical tolls the job required and deal with them in a healthy way.

Skills be damned, it just _wasn’t_ right. 

So he’d made it a point to keep a close eye on teen. But things started getting out of hand. He started venturing further and further from direct orders gambling his own security to complete the objectives. 

And somewhere along the line, admirable determination morphed into an obsessive monster that slowly but surely latched on like a toxic parasite dragging the teen deeper and deeper into concerning levels of mental and emotional fatigue.

The half assed therapy sessions Jones had insisted on weren’t doing much. He could tell. Youth could only stretch so far, and it was clear to see that Rider was stretching himself thin. _Too_ thin.

It bothered him.

So he’d ordered a switch in therapists with extended sessions when he returned from a midterm mission that had him on almost three weeks of sick leave with the threat of suspending his status permanently.

Rider had agreed without too much of a fuss, dutifully stopping by the therapists Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for his two hour sessions.

He eased back into work after the mandatory three days starting with helping out with training seminars and lectures. Something Matthews came to find out Alex _abhorred_ doing. Which was a pity because he was genuinely good at teaching.

And with one final physical and an all clear from his therapist, Matthews reinstated his status and briefed him on his newest mission; a short in and out joint sting with DGSE in Paris. 

The objective was simple enough. They had names to faces and they knew what exactly it was they were looking for and what needed to be done when the cargo was located and retrieved. 

Nothing _too_ dangerous or difficult considering his track record and affiliation with SCORPIA.

He wouldn't be alone this time. He'd have a team and the team would have back up. All that they needed to do was to keep the damages to a minimum and to stay safe.

None of them could have forseen the mission failing as bad as it had. It had gone up in flames, quite literally with a failed objective and a senior agent getting killed in action.

Twenty two children. 

_Christ_. It had all gone so wrong.

In the end, it was the other senior DGSE agent who let Matthews know about what had really happened out of genuine concern for his ex teammate's mental and emotional well-being, not leaving out the gruesome details as Alex had, finding himself unable to bring out the words to explain. To relive the slice of hell he'd encountered.

That was how Matthews had found out what exactly it was that had Alex looking so deadened on his return and up to the debrief. The bags under his eyes darkened significantly from the obvious lack of sleep. He looked beyond exhausted. 

So when he was informed that Daniels had called in an emergency medical transfer sometime around four in the morning, he just knew. 

And when he went to visit, neither of them brought the problem up, both choosing to bury it for _both_ their sakes.

And to the current day, it never came up again, staying hidden deep in the ground never to see the light of day.

But he'd been wrong. 

He should have brought it up. He should have discharged him from SI permanently, or at least long term. Longer than he ended up doing before putting him right back on the front lines.

Mistake after mistake culminating to the point they were at, and as much as he didn't want to admit it, he was very much at fault and so was Jones and Blunt. 

They had created the monster, and it seemed that it had gotten tired of waiting. 

Another problem on top of the mountain of problems that dealt with Rider and latched painfully on to Matthews' shot nerves.

He was snapped out of the terrifying train of thought by a knock at the door.

"Come in."

"Sir."

"Agent Daniels.' he nodded in greeting.

"GCHQ thinks they may have found Rider and Harris."

"When?!" 

"About 3 minutes ago. They sent a message over. They say it's hard to say for sure right now. They're working on the graphics and getting more clips."

"Where were they?"

"Manchester."

 _"Manchester_ …?" 

Ben nodded grimly. 

"Right in one of Manchester University's student housing neighborhoods."

"Smart."

"But there is a small problem."

"Concerning Rider?"

"And Harris."

Matthews didn't say a word, just waiting for Ben to drop the sword.

"If it _is_ them in the footage, they may have potentially been taken by an outside group that isn't military and intelligence affiliated."

"So what you're saying is that there's a chance they may have been taken, by hostiles."

Ben grimaced.

"Yes, sir"

"Lord have mercy..." 


	34. Chapter 34

“Sir, we’ve got news.” 

“Good or bad?” 

Ben winced. “Good and bad, sir. Mostly bad…” 

Matthews let out an exhausted sigh, dropping his face onto his hands, propped up on his elbows on the cold glass desktop of his office desk. He tried in vain to rub some of the tension stress away from his eyes. 

“Go on then.” he gestured despondent, looking to Ben with a grimace. 

“Well, the good news is that they are most likely still in the country.” 

“Okay, as they were two hours ago.” 

“Um...Yes sir… Another good news is that they’ve found real-time footage of the vehicle that sighted where Harris and Rider were last sighted, in Manchester.” 

“Where?” 

“Mam Tor National Trust Car Park, sir.” 

In the goddamn middle of a national park. Of all places...

Matthews took a deep breath. 

“And the bad news?”

“There’s footage of the car entering the car park, but there’s no sight of the car anywhere in any of the parking area cameras. They’re trying to locate where it went.”

“I see…” 

“GCHQ and 5 are sending out agents to the area as we speak, but they’re requesting any sort of intel 6 might have about Rider’s possible whereabouts.” 

Matthews turned his attention back on the Russian sitting across from him, looking  _ far  _ too comfortable for Matthew’s liking. 

A little too much like he didn’t care about the chaos that was unfolding to his mentee. Matthews wasn’t fooled. He’d read the entirety of Rider’s file. He’d connected the dots. Put the names to the faces. He knew what a batshit bizarre situation they were dealing with, having a known assassin sitting across from him in his own office in the heart of SI as a bloody  _ CI _ of all things. 

He also knew how big of a role the man played in Rider’s life. In his training. In his  _ becoming _ , whatever it was he was growing to be. Whatever it was  _ Casimir  _ was growing to be.

“A national park?” Gregorovich asked, staring straight back at Matthews, cocking his head in thought.

“Yes. A rather big one at that. With a bunch of caverns and rivers and country clubs.” Ben answered shortly. 

“And the weather?” 

“Forecasted rain. Some thunderstorms in certain areas.” 

The Russian deliberated a moment longer before leaning back to his casual position.

“I don’t think they were kidnapped.” 

“Why not?” Matthews demanded in narrow-eyed suspicion.

“I digress-” Gregorovich put up a hand.

“I don’t think  _ Alexander  _ was kidnapped.” 

“They were at the same place at the same time. Why would they only take  _ Harris _ ? He’s just a civilian.” 

“I never said that Rider was left behind.”

“Then what  _ are  _ you saying, Gregorovich? If you know something, please, just say it.”

“I think Harris was kidnapped by Casimir.” 

The temperature in the room plummeted as the Russian’s words set in. 

“He knows that his chances of surviving are falling, especially if he chooses to keep Harris around. I am sure that is a chance Alexander would be more than willing to take, as he is  _ very  _ close to his friend. But Casimir… All it would take is ten, maybe fifteen minutes for hypothermia to set in. Maybe a bullet to the head, if he was feeling compassionate.”

“ _ Jesus Christ.  _ Daniels, tell them to send in search and rescue and well, around bodies of water.” 

“Yes, sir.” The spy rushed out, shutting the door quietly behind him.

“Do you really think that he would go as far as to kill, Harris?” 

“It would not be entirely surprising. He  _ has  _ killed before.”

“I  _ know _ that. But this is someone close to Alex. From what I understand, they share control.”

“ _ Shared _ control.” Yassen corrected. 

“Now, we cannot be sure. But from the trail of destruction, it is more than likely that Casimir is in full control.” 

“Do you think that Rider is in the mental state to be able to stomach Harris’ death?” 

Gregorovich quirked a brow. 

“You are asking if he could handle knowing he murdered his best friend?” 

“Yes.” Matthews gritted out. 

“It will push him over the edge, and he may never come back. That is one death that will stick with him.”

“And the others haven’t?” 

He shrugged. “I will tell you this Director, Matthews-” he leaned forward, looking Matthews in the eye. “There was a certain lack of remorse towards the time Alex was rescued. It would be prudent for you to view him through a less rose-colored lens. He is not the same agent you sent out four months ago, no matter how hard he has tried in returning to be. Do with that information what you will, but I  _ suggest  _ that you brace yourself. If Harris dies, he will come after  _ everyone  _ responsible.”

* * *

Tom groaned, wincing against the painful thumping in his head and the godawful wave of nausea to boot over the uncomfortable feeling of cottonmouth. The overwhelming smell of petrol didn’t help his case. 

It was cold. 

Freezing cold. And he was still in his pajama pants and long sleeve. But he was barefoot this time, and things started trickling back into his memory. 

Alex-no,  _ Casimir  _ had left. Walked straight out telling him not to stay up for him, and as much as he tried to, he couldn’t stay awake. But the alter hadn’t returned when he’d woken up a few hours later around ten. And he hadn’t come back even around the time Tom had talked himself into actually eating lunch. 

And that was all he really remembered. 

One moment he was finishing up the simple ham and cheese sandwich he had made himself, maybe a burst of pain? He couldn’t quite remember. And then  _ darkness. _

And now here he was waking up somewhere dark and cold at the mercy of his best friend’s psychopathic alter. 

“Where-” he winced at the uncomfortable dryness in his mouth, trying to blink away the last of the grogginess holding him between the states of consciousness. 

“-is this?” he finally managed to get out, squeezing his eyes shut against nausea that was starting to mount. 

There was no response. 

“I know you’re there-” he heaved a dry cough, suddenly aware of the strange feeling in his lungs. And his mouth. And most of his face and throat. Like he couldn’t  _ quite  _ move them the way he wanted. 

“Al-lex?” There was no reply. “I h-heard you erl-lier. _Cas-mir?_ _Hello_?”

And suddenly the coldness became impossibly colder, rushing under his thin articles of clothing to sink its fangs straight into his bones, making him shiver almost painfully, leaving his confused mind to try to figure out what the  _ fuck  _ was going on.

But all at once, his mind went completely blank, frozen in visceral fear.

“Oh good, you're awake. I was getting worried.”

It wasn’t Casimir, and it sure as  _ hell  _ wasn’t Alex. 

He saw a bleary shape of a man and his facial features twist into what was probably a smile. He couldn’t tell from the blurriness of his eyes. 

“I’m going to need you to sit tight for a few more minutes, Thomas. We’re almost there.” and before he could protest, the man shoved him back into the darkness, leaving Tom reeling in from the fact that he realized what was happening, where he was. 

He was trapped. Inside of a box with a lid by a man he didn’t know headed somewhere he had no clue of away from Alex and most likely further away from any sort of rescue. 

And then the panic set in.

* * *

“Sir! They’ve found Rider!” 

Matthews snapped out of his daze, turning his attention to the new arrival at his door.

“Where?!” 

“In the Manchester location-the house.” 

“It’s nearly half-past six, Daniels. They’ve been patrolling that area for  _ hours _ .” 

“Well, the neighboring house reported that they smelled something burning, and the fire department went to check things out, but by then the back portion of the house, near the air conditioning unit, exploded and the house caught on fire. So they went in to do a check and they found him unconscious in the bathtub-a filled bathtub.” 

“And Harris?” 

“No sign of him yet, but MI5 have officially deemed it a kidnapping. They’ve put out alerts to the surrounding areas.”

“Where’s Rider right now?” 

“He’s been admitted to St. Dominic's. He is currently still unconscious. The doctors suspect some smoke inhalation and possible drug use. They’re running a full panel as we speak.” 

“Alright. Thank you, Agent Daniels, for keeping me updated.”

“No problem, Sir Anything else I can do?” 

“Go get Gregorovich, please. Tell him it’s an  _ emergency _ . And I want to be alerted the moment Rider wakes up.”

“Yes, sir.”


	35. Chapter 35

"So Gregorovich was right. you  _ are  _ Casimir. I’d hoped to meet under different circumstances-"

“And I hoped we wouldn't have to meet at all. But the universe tends to be a bitch like that." 

“You’re in luck then. I’m not here for pointless banter, so let’s cut the pleasantries.” 

“I thought six was on lockdown. Shouldn’t it be...um. oh- _ damn it _ . What’s her name…-” his brows furrowed in concentration. “Baghat! That’s it. Moli Baghat. Head of MI5. Shouldn’t  _ she  _ be here right now?” 

“She is, Agent Rider.” the petite woman shut the door quietly behind, striding towards the bed, heels clicking irritatingly against the dull cement floor, sending spikes of pain shooting through his temples. 

“How _ fun _ -were you even listening? I’m  _ not _ boy genius. Just the temp. But if you want to leave a note-”

“ _ Enough _ .” Matthews cut in sharply, neutral facade starting to crack. “That’s enough. I don’t give a damn about who's who. There are bigger issues at hand, so  _ please _ , stop making things difficult and just  _ cooperate _ ." The man hissed, meeting the frigid blue eyes. 

"That's what you told Rider before abandoning him. Do you remember? in  _ Paris _ ." His voice was dead even, but the underlying icy sharpness didn't go unnoticed. "When he practically  _ begged  _ you to pull him out. Begged all the way to the end, or at least, when aborting  _ didn’t  _ have a blood consequence. And then when everything went to shit, you put the blame on him." Matthews clenched his jaw, rooted to the spot. Casimir continued to stare emptily back. 

"He stayed the whole time, you know. From the moment he failed less than half a meter from goal to the explosion. Stood there freaking the  _ fuck  _ out knowing he wouldn’t be able to get them out in time even if he could open the doors. The twenty two kids. Screaming. Pleading. Crying.  _ Literally _ burning alive. And the  _ stench _ -" he grimaced. "So  _ don _ 't fucking give me that bullshit." 

"And  _ you _ -" he turned to the woman. "Your hands aren't clean either." She didn't reply, surveying the Raven haired spy with emotionless calm. 

"Rider might not know about the trade back in Tbilisi, but  _ I  _ do." 

"I don't know what you're talking about-" 

"Yes. You  _ do _ . You might not have been directly involved, but you knew what Feaux did, and you did  _ nothing.  _ You were complacent."

"This is absurd.  _ You _ are the one who murdered him, along with two of my agents. No amount of unproven accusations are going to help you slither out of the mess you've made." 

"I didn't kill Feaux, Rider did, for me. But if he knew the full story about the bastard, I know he wouldn't hesitate to do it again." 

"He's done nothing wrong."

"He sold out Kostornikaya." 

The silence was deafening. 

"And he sold Rider out too. For information on that on-going investigation under  _ your  _ leadership of the new drug,  _ Ibixgon _ ." 

"That’s a bold accusation to make. Where's your proof?"

"You'll have to do a little research yourself but, if you  _ do  _ go back and check things through, you'll find that MI5 went dark for a few minutes around late October. 

It wasn't an external hack. It was an internal crash. But there was a short data transfer,  _ both  _ ways in those few minutes before the power came back on." The temperature in the room took a nose-dive. 

"Right about the time that Matthews sold out Daniels too." The two heads froze at the sudden accusation, silent in shock in the wake of the alter's smug smirk.

"It was never Gregorovich's intention to have Rider go after Daniels. He needed proof that Rider could be trusted, and for that to happen he actually needed to be able to kill the designated target.   
Gregorovich knew Rider would fail if Daniels was the target, so he engineered a situation where there would be no choice but to pick someone else.

Gregorovich planted the idea, and Rider brought it to fruition. And that’s how I came to be. Because he couldn’t handle the stress or the guilt.” He rolled his eyes.

“So this whole time, Gregorovich was really the only one who knew what he was doing. I’m sure he’d tell you if you ask nicely.”

“Gregorovich never brought any of this up.” 

“Probably because you didn’t ask. He’s not exactly the type to go blurting things out at random now, is he?”

“Kostornikaya was MI6 when she was KIA.” Baghat recovered enough to ask. The key question. The only thing that  _ didn’t  _ add up. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you? How do  _ you  _ think he got access to MI6’s files?” He snapped back dryly. 

“Are you implying that there is a mole in 6.”

“And 5, but Rider took care of that one. And I’m not  _ implying _ . I’m letting you know of a fact, because they’ve been a right fucking pain in the arse.”

“For how long?”

“As far as I know, at least from around the start of the mission in Russia. Maybe longer.”

“ _ Bloody hell _ !” The man hissed angrily, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Okay.  _ Okay _ -“ she breathed in a deep breath, composing herself, stepping beside “We’ll have to get back to that. But for now, the most important thing is finding Harris.”Matthews nodded stiffly. “So first things first. We have a clip of an unknown car at the Manchester house, before Tom Harris disappeared. Do you know who it may have been?”

“That was me.”

“You kidnapped Tom Harris?”

“I did. Was planning on dumping him at the park.”

“Did you succeed.”

“He’s still alive, if that’s what you're asking. I got him all the way down to a nice little hidden embankment before getting jumped.”

“Did you see who it was.”

He shook his head. “The last thing I remember is getting stabbed in the neck with something, and when I woke up, I was back in the house sitting in an ice bath.”

“Did you willingly choose to stay.”

“ _ Obviously  _ not. Why the hell would I choose to sit in the fucking ice bath inside a burning building…? Whatever the gave me didn’t wear off. That, mixed with the low level smoke inhalation had me locked in place. And then I passed out and here I am.” He gestured sarcastically around.

“Why do you think they brought you back to the house? Why not just get rid of you at the park?”

“Because they knew the agents patrolling weren’t being vigilant. Because being moved to a new location means the chances of returning are shit. And they were right. And as for not killing me, that was purposeful. Just like putting me in an ice bath before burning the house down was purposeful. They don’t want me dead. They just needed a distraction.”

“For what?”

“I’m not the one to ask. Rider knows. At least, he remembered s _ omething  _ important after the interrogation session with Gregorovich, at camp. But like I said, he hasn’t been feeling too great. Everything’s been getting pretty jumbled, and he’s been having blackouts in his memory. Thinks he’s  _ actually _ losing it. Maybe it’s trauma. Or maybe he just needs his fix. Either way, the cigarettes weren’t cutting it.”

“I see. In that case, I think a decision needs to be made.”

“About…?”

“Agent Rider’s safety.”

“6’ holding is out of the question.” Matthews shook his head.

“And so is 5’ or GCHQ for that matter.” Baghat added in agreement.

“I might add, this is  _ precisely  _ why the Sergeant doesn’t like SI. Poor bastard can’t catch a break.”


	36. Chapter 36

"We've been out here for _three hours_ , Wolf. And he was running even before then." 

"You know what we've been told. He's Gregorovich's responsibility. We're not to interfere-I _saw_ that you little shit! You best get back and run it again. _Clean_ this time or I'll have you running extra laps!" 

Wolf took a displeased breath, semi-critically surveying the groups scattered along the course.

"The man's an ex-SCORPIA _assassin_ . He had _no_ qualms of hurting Alex that time-" 

"I _know_ , Snake. I'm _more_ than bloody aware of that, thank you.” he bristled, eyes darting over to Gregorovich who stood not too far away monitoring the brunet who was _still_ at it, lap after _goddamn_ lap like nothing was wrong. 

“He’s going to drop out of sheer exhaustion.” Snake added tersely. “And if _that_ doesn’t kill him, the man’s got a goddamn rifle. A _rifle_ , Wolf.” he insisted. 

Wolf grimaced. 

It hadn’t been concealed and oddly enough, it hadn’t come as much of a surprise. 

And while Ben had filled them in, albeit vaguely, about what had happened, it was still unnerving to see the two. To see how twisted the situation had become. 

It was Alex but it wasn’t. 

The new guy, Casimir, he…

“ _He’s what you call an ‘alter’ or an ‘alternate identity.’_ ” 

It had been what Ben had explained to them when he accompanied the two back to camp three days ago. 

“ _Most likely created out of stress as a means of coping during the last mission_.” Wolf hadn’t missed the derisive scoff, but apart from that, the brunet had remained wordlessly silent for the rest of the brief staring holes into Ben’s head. 

“ _He’s not Alex, don’t forget that. He’s dangerous and manipulative and won’t hesitate to harm anyone who gets in his way, so stay out of it. I don’t know how they’ve done it, but the investigation from 5’s been temporarily suspended and Gregorovich has been permitted more-or-less full control over Casimir as his handler for the time being.”_

The older spy hadn’t sounded all that pleased about _that_ little snippet of information. 

_“What about Harris?”_ Eagle had asked the most useful question, bringing about the most shocking answer. 

“ _Harris is still MIA. They were hiding out in a house in Manchester before Casimir kidnapped him. Took him to a national park and tried to drown him, so he said_." 

_That_ had everyone reeling. 

" _He didn't get around to it though. And now Harris is missing."_

Wolf sighed, gritting his teeth. The conversation wasn't going to be nice. He could already tell. 

But Snake was right. 

Even if it wasn't Alex _mentally_ , it _was_ still Alex _physically_ and that made everything so much worse. 

Either way, their silence had the power to cause harm to their unorthodox but still technical plus one member of the unit. 

Harm and or possibly _death_ if Gregorovich was carrying the rifle for the reason they thought he was, and Wolf just _wasn't_ about to have that on his conscience. 

"Fine." He shoved the clipboard into Snakes hands. "But Gregorovich probably won't even talk." 

"Only one way to find out, Wolf." 

"I'm going, I'm _going_ -goddamn." He snarked. But he didn't hesitate, putting one foot in front of the other towards where the Russian stood, thinking about what the _hell_ he was even supposed to say.

"I was expecting the medic." Wolf managed to hide his little surprised falter, continuing forward to close the considerable gap. 

Of _course_ the assassin was aware of his arrival. It would be strange if he _hadn't_ been. But it wasn't to say that his seeming omniscience of his surroundings _wasn't_ creepy as _fuck_. Forget Ben or Alex, the man was in a league of his own. 

"There was a change of plans." 

"I see." The assassin's eyes remained fix forward, trailing the brunet's steady movement.

"So is this punishment or something?"

Wolf swore he saw the corner of the man's mouth quirk up just a fraction.

"No."

"He might be young, but he _does_ have limits, you know. He's gonna keel over eventually."

"That is the general point of training, is it not? To push one's self to their limits."

"Yes, but this-" Wolf stared out, tracking Cub in the distance. "Is a little cruel, isn't it? I mean, there's got to be a reason he's still running and hasn't stopped." 

"Fear has been a _very_ good motivator for Alex." 

"Threatening him with _death_ is a little much."

"Death?"

"That's why you've got a rifle on you, isn't it?" He glanced down at the sleek rifle.

Yassen actually quirked a small smirk of amusement this time around. "You have been to terrorism lectures. He was not exaggerating in discussing SCORPIA."

Wolf stiffened at the name. 

"The way they train their operatives is nothing less than cruelty, but that is the price of capability." 

Gregorovich's hands moved fluidly in practiced ease, and without further warning he shot off three shots in succession followed by two more, slowly and off rhythm this time.

Wolf jumped, eyes wide in shock as he worked to keep his hands to himself. 

"What the _hell-"_ and then it registered as he finally noticed the brunet still running, albeit notably faster, picking up his pace.

"Limits can be broken. You just need to find the proper motivation." He reloaded the rifle. 

"And what exactly _is_ Ale-uh-the other guy's motivation?" 

"It is one in the same."

"Not death?"

"Everyone fears death in some regard. But it is not always a strong enough motivator."

"...Torture…?” Wolf mumbled a guess. 

It tasted wrong in his mouth. Brought back _far_ too many memories of RTI and the odd deployment gone wrong. He was a royal marine before he joined the SAS. He had his fair share of _‘training’_. 

But his gut twisted uncomfortably, reminding him that, going by what he knew of SCORPIA and Alex’s bizarre experience, that the torture _he_ meant was _nothing_ on the torture Gregorovich had in mind. 

“Partially.” 

_Damn_ . So it was torture… _Christ_ . He couldn’t even _begin_ to fathom what sort of torture could _possibly_ top the fear of _death_ itself. 

It was insane. 

Unthinkable. 

“Is there an end goal to all of this?” 

“There is.” Yassen answered shortly, watching the brunet make yet another lap. *“Достаточно.” he barked, flicking the safety back on before maneuvering the weapon in his hands, thumping the ground with the butt of the rifle three solid times. 

The brunet moved with practiced precision, veering off of the track making a beeline towards the assassin. 

“Is he-” 

“Time?” Gregorovich demanded. 

“Four hundred-.” he tapered, jaw tensing in obvious stress as he racked his brain to try and remember standing intently at attention staring ahead at a point somewhere just above the Russian’s right shoulder. 

**“беспечный” the man commented coldly, staring the brunet down. “I trained you _better_.” 

Wolf didn’t miss the flinch and flash of fear in the newly colored bright blue eyes. 

***“Начать снова. I see you are not ready to stop just yet.” 

Casimir gave a sharp nod, turning and jogging back down to the grounds. 

“You were saying?” Wolf prompted warily, trailing the poor bastard as he continued as he had around the ground. 

“Alexander will be back _very_ soon.”

“Cub?” 

Yassen nodded. 

He brandished the rifle up again, flicking the safety off before shooting off four rounds, one after another tailing the brunet as it kicked up frozen chunks of earth mere centimeters behind Casimir with every shot. 

He straightened up after the fifth before turning to face Wolf head-on, rifle still held ready in his hands. 

“I think that your teammate, Martin could be of good use to this endeavor.” 

“Martin?” Wolf quirked a brow. He wasn’t _entirely_ surprised. But the fact that _Gregorovich_ of all people knew so much so casually…” 

“Your weapons expert, Corporal. Valez.” the Russian retorted dryly. ^” More technically, a C _lark_ _Solis_ for this endeavor.”

Wolf froze as the realization flooded his memories. 

“Twenty-three hundred hours at the lake. I recommend a towel.”

* * *

“And you’re _positive_ about this?” 

“ _Yes_ , Snake.” he hissed. “There’s no way it was a fluke. The ^Raqqa mission was practically ‘black ops’ classified, you know that. You were there. We _all_ were!” Wolf insisted solemnly. 

“Okay, _okay. Fine_ . Let’s say Gregorovich really _does_ know. Why was it _just_ Eagle? The only person who was in that op that _isn’t_ here is Kola.” 

The mood of the group took a nosedive, bringing back the terrible memories pushing them into silence as they picked and prodded at their lunch. 

“Snake’s right,” Eagle mumbled, finally cutting through the tense silence. “I don’t see how a past cover is going to bring Cub back. I mean, isn’t dissociation a way of dealing with stress and trauma? What the hell is the point of reviving a clusterfuck that died two years ago?” 

“Whatever it is, if you decide to go, we’ll be there as back up. I don’t know what 6 is playing at but I don’t fucking trust him.” Snake grunted an affirmative at Wolf’s gruff words. 

“Ben said he’d be coming back around at the end of the week to check in, so we can ask him as well. I’m sure he knows _something_ at the very least.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Достаточно -Enough  
> **беспечный - careless  
> ***Начать снова - Start again  
> ^Both from "The Enemy of my Enemy"


	37. Chapter 37

"You wanted results, no?" 

" _ Results _ , yes. But even  _ you  _ have to admit that this plan is nothing short of  _ cruel _ !"

"Necessary sacrifices."

"I get that you and your kind of people-" 

Yassen quirked a semi-amused brow. "-have a different grasp on the definition of  _ 'necessary sacrifices' _ , but they aren't going to agree to this. UKSF or not, there are  _ boundaries _ .  _ Rules _ " 

"The same as your secret intelligence, I presume?" 

Ben frowned, jaw locking at the pointed dig. 

The man wasn't wrong though, and it made things just  _ that much  _ more difficult to hold his tongue and be fucking  _ diplomatic _ as he was ordered by Matthews to be.

Because for whatever reason, Gregorovich had managed to come out of the absolute chaos of the last few days with a  _ clear  _ upper hand. Something had changed between the disappearance and reappearance of the enigmatic alter. Something big. 

Something that Ben was more than a hundred percent sure, had to do with Russia. But it wasn't only that. 

There was something off about the whole thing. Something  _ fishy _ . 

He'd been summoned by Matthew's office earlier that day, out of the blue, pulled from the monotony of the mountains of paperwork on his own desk. 

The man had looked  _ exhausted _ and more than a little stressed, and if he were reading things right, he could have  _ sworn  _ there was fear. 

Just a little. 

Uncovered as the stress and fatigue started to  _ really  _ weigh down on the man's ability to keep his  _ scary  _ good poker face. He was losing his cool, and whatever it was inside the small sealed box of files he had handed over to Ben, it had the head of secret intelligence agitated and possibly even a little afraid. 

It set Ben on edge, cemented by the brisk order to drop everything and deliver it to Gregorovich straight away. Due dates of his paperwork mountain be damned, this took priority. 

So he did as he was told and set off for camp, precious cargo in tow with the clear instructions to  _ 'tell Gregorovich to keep the damage to a minimum.'  _

Which was more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. A crazy fucking twilight zone situation to find himself in, in all honesty.

"Look, Gregorovich. I don't know what the hell happened in the past few days that's got you elevated to as much power as you've got now but, I'm telling you. This  _ isn't  _ going to get past Jones nevermind  _ Matthews _ . They  _ are  _ under scrutiny. You know this. With the whole Feaux issue, they aren't going to just be able to bend the rules just for Alex. It's not going to work like tha-" 

"I think it will." It wasn't smug. It wasn't sarcastic. It wasn't really anything but steady and sure, which was concerning in and of itself. 

"I think you should contact the director. Allow him to decide for himself." 

The spy hesitated a moment, gears racing to try and figure out what it was he was missing. There had to be  _ something _ . The plan was ludicrous at best. There was  _ no  _ way it would get past both Matthews  _ and  _ Jones. The sign off to the plan itself would be grounds for an IR meeting. And that was  _ without  _ any incurred damages. 

But even  _ if  _ Gregorovich was allowed to execute his plan, UKSF would need to be informed and in turn, so would SAS HQ and also the Sergeant himself. All within the next five hours. 

It was impossible, and the assassin surely knew…? 

But there was a firm confidence that just seemed so out of place. So... _ lethal _ .

Whatever it was that the assassin had, whatever it was that was giving him so much power, it was dangerous no doubt. The whole situation was, really… But in the bureaucracy of the intelligence world, Ben knew he didn't hold all that much weight. S

A specialist senior agent or not, he was still under Matthew's ultimatums. Which was why he bothered at all, patching himself over to the direct line he had been given with the box.

"Agent Daniels." 

"Director Matthews, Mr. Gregorovich needed to speak with you on a possible plan-" 

"Director." Yassen cut in. 

"Your plan, Mr. Gregorovich?" 

"To revisit the incident that occurred during the *'Raqqa Operation'." 

"...What of it…?"

"It was an important operation to Alex. A notable source of acute trauma. If used properly, I believe it could become the stimulus needed for Alex to regain control."

"Explain." 

"Fear has proved to be the best motivator for the both of them, but in different aspects." 

Ben grimaced at the chilling insinuation. Alex was one thing, but how did the man know so much about Casimir? What sort of chaotic hell had they'd been stuck in for those months? Enough to envelope the seemingly unflappable alter, instilling in him a  _ genuine  _ sense of fear regarding Gregorovich at least. 

How  _ that  _ came to be, Ben wasn't even sure he wanted to know. Some things were better left unknown. And if the past few days were anything to go by, ignorance really  _ was  _ bliss. There were  _ hundreds  _ of things he wished he hadn't have had to find out, images he wished he'd never seen, but it didn't change that he knew then now. Etched into his memory, gruesome morbid thoughts his brain would feed on in the early whenever he'd get the opportunity for some actual shut eye… 

And the fact that Matthews hadn't stopped the assassin yet. Hadn't even acknowledged the fact that Gregorovich shouldn't have even  _ remotely  _ known of the operation that occured in Raqqa for that matter. The file was small and classified. There was absolutely  _ no  _ reason the man should be as knowledgeable in any aspect of the op never mind what had gone wrong. 

"Casimir fears physical pain. Doctor Three was the one to realize it. Physical fatigue will have him with a lowered guard." 

Matthews hummed an acknowledgement. 

"Alex however, he fears something completely different. He is...empathetic. He harbors sentiment and humane attachment. What he fears is harming those he genuinely cares for. Those whom he holds close. The murder of Kostornikaya was a clear example of his fear motivation."

"Like what happened during the excursion, with Harris?" 

"Correct." 

"What are the risks?" 

"Exposing Alex to such a traumatic memory could send him deeper, allowing Casimir to hold tighter."

"That isn't very promising…" 

"The other possibility would be to attack Casimir." 

"...Torture…?"

"Torture." Yassen repeated in affirmation. 

There was an audible sigh on Matthew's line. 

"Alright. The initial plan it is. I'll see what I can do with UKSF on my part. You focus on yours, and hopefully we'll get out of this shit show in one piece." 

Yassen's lip twitched in a brief semblance of a smirk. 

"And as for you, agent Daniels-" 

"Sir?" 

"Stay put and help Gregorovich with the plan, and keep me informed." 

"Yes, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reference/spoiler for "The Enemy of my Enemy"


End file.
